


Devastation

by myfavorite26



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfavorite26/pseuds/myfavorite26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco, Harry, and Teddy had created a family in the aftermath of the war...now that family is being threatened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first step into the HP and Drarry fanfic world. I'm so nervous to put this out there with all of the wonderful stories that have already been written. But I've had this story in my head for quite some time and felt the need to write it. This is unbeta'd because I don't have anyone to do it for me, so all mistakes are my own.  
> Enjoy!!!

**Devastation**

Draco knew Teddy did not really like him, at least not anymore.

He knew it in the way the boy always looked at him whenever he held Harry’s hand, or kissed him, or they dropped him off at Andromeda’s for a date night.

Draco knew it bothered Harry that Teddy didn’t like him.

He knew it when Harry would pull back from a kiss, shorten a hug, or cancel a night out because Teddy threw a fit, enough to make himself sick once, that Harry was leaving without him.

He knew all this and yet for as brilliant as Draco was, he could not fix it.

When Harry and Draco had first gotten together Teddy was still living with Andromeda. She and Harry, had decided that it would be better for Harry to finish school and establish himself in a career before moving Teddy into his care.

It had been for the best, especially as Harry struggled with the aftermath of the war. School had been a struggle for every 8th year. But Harry had relied so much on the sense of home that Hogwarts gave him, and after everything he had been through, seeing it torn apart had been almost too much to overcome. It was devastating to be walking the halls that once had been such a source of joy, and only see the pain and death associated with what had happened.

Minerva McGonagall, though, was a brilliant woman, and an excellent Headmistress. She made helping rebuild the Castle together a project required of all 8th Year students. It had helped, and slowly but surely as they rebuilt the home they had known for so long, they began to heal as well.

Some needed more and Healers were available, but the sense of home and family carried them all through their last year together. Harry had found that being with friends who were his family, and rebuilding the place he loved so well had helped. Becoming friends with Draco was something no one saw coming and a positive in both boys lives.

When they became more the next year, the usual nastiness that followed such a pairing made its way through the Daily Prophet and the wizarding world in general. But they were honest with each other, knew what they wanted and needed, and had grown from boys to men together. No one but their closest friends had been with them as they healed, and no one needed to understand their relationship. It was theirs and theirs alone.

So when Teddy moved in with Harry as a quiet, but energetic 4 year old it was with the understanding that Draco would move in at the same time. Harry was going to need help raising a child and it was only a matter of when, not if, Draco and Harry would be living together. The adults agreed that hopefully this would also help the transition with Teddy. He would see from the beginning that Harry and Draco were a packaged deal. They were going to raise Teddy together and give him the home and stability both Harry and Draco had so badly wanted as boys.

At first Teddy had been truly enamored of Harry. He had always been a presence in Teddy’s young life, but Teddy had only ever stayed with Harry for short overnight or weekend trips. To be living with his godfather was overwhelming, in the best way possible, for the boy.

Harry spoke about Teddy’s parents to him, something Nana had never done. Any time Teddy asked about his mother or father, Nana had started crying and just ended up hugging him. Teddy learned very soon not to ask about the parents he never knew.

But Uncle Harry wasn’t like that. He told stories, showed pictures, and shared all he could with Teddy. Sometimes Teddy knew it made Uncle Harry sad because he would start to cry, but he never told Teddy not to ask about them.

Draco often sat with them, cuddled on the couch, as they spoke of Tonks and Remus. The gentle arm, encompassing both Harry and Teddy, was a welcome source of strength and warmth for Harry as he spoke of two people he loved and admired, to the son that was so much a combination of them.

It was during one of these times that Teddy learned he and Draco were cousins. Teddy was quiet, but inquisitive and asked many questions of the family he did not know beyond Nana and Papa and Uncle Harry. Unfortunately there was only so much Draco could tell a 4 year old about the family he was a part of, but he shared what he could, eventually talking quite a bit about his own childhood. There would hopefully be time and distance before Teddy started asking the questions neither Draco, nor Harry, were ready to answer.

Draco became Cousin Draco soon after that and it had stuck. They grew closer together as a family, with  Harry and Draco sharing responsibilities more and more, and Teddy looking to both when he needed something, not just his godfather.

That was until Draco let Teddy down, and broke the one promise Teddy had asked of both Harry and Draco. He made them promise to never leave him.

___________________________________________________________

Teddy had always suffered from some separation anxiety. From a very young age he knew it was unusual to live with your grandmother. Other children lived with their mother and father, or at least one of them, but not Teddy.

Being the bright boy that he was by the age of 4, he asked one night at the dinner table why he didn’t live with his parents. Harry and Draco had been over for dinner and the three adults, well mostly Harry, sat him down and explained that his parents, who had loved him very much, were not alive anymore. But his brave and noble parents were always watching over him and knew what a wonderful boy he was.

It had not been the best explanation, and Nana had not said much, but Teddy started to understand the sense of loss that having no parents had left him with. When he tried to ask questions about his parents after that, he quickly learned how Nana would respond, and asked no more.

Just because Teddy didn’t receive any answers about the parents, did not mean he felt their absence any less. That sense of loss soon turned into the fear of losing the others around him that he loved, especially Harry and eventually Draco.

For the most part, as long as Teddy was with either Harry or Draco he was fine. Of course there were still times that Teddy preferred Harry-after a nightmare or during a bad storm-but for the most part they were able to ease Teddy’s fears together.

So when Draco had to take a business trip when Teddy was 6, they thought everything would be fine. Draco had become a well-regarded Potions Master and had been asked to travel to the continent for a conference about the advances he had made in certain potions. He tucked Teddy in the night before he left, kissed him on the forehead, and told him he loved him.

“You’ll be back soon right?” came Teddy’s muddled question. He had fought to stay up as late as possible to spend time with Draco and Harry before Draco left, and the exhaustion flowed through his voice.

“Yes darling. Remember, we said 3 sleeps and then I’ll be back.”

Draco had started calling Teddy darling after the boy had changed the Cousin in front of Draco’s name to Uncle, just as he called Harry. Darling was what Narcissa had called Draco as a child, and the warmth from that single word had helped carry him through many instances of anger and self-doubt that he had been prone to during the years before, during, and after the War. He hoped to pass along some of that strength to Teddy through the use of a nickname so dear to him. It had been a part of many of the stories Draco had shared with Teddy when he first found out they were cousins, and Teddy never forgot.

So when Draco did not return at the appointed time from his conference, Teddy had started to panic. Draco was never late, ever. It was Harry, who at times showed up late from work that had had to console an upset or distraught Teddy that he hadn’t shown up when he promised.

Harry had started by sending an owl, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure he could afford by the look on Teddy’s face. Both of the men had hoped that as Teddy aged he would grow out of some of his anxiety. It was clear though that with Draco so far away for this many days, and now not returning home when he said he would be, Teddy was struggling just as much if not more.

Harry next flooed a colleague of Draco’s that had also gone to the conference. When he discovered Draco’s colleague was home, and had actually gotten released early from their last meeting, he started to worry as well.

Two hours later, and now well past Teddy’s bedtime, they had still heard nothing. Harry had tried in vain for more than an hour to get Teddy to calm down and go to sleep, telling him that as soon as Draco got home he would wake him up with a kiss and a hug. It had been to no avail, and Teddy’s panic widened eyes had not closed for more than a second.

And now Harry was even more concerned because Teddy had turned silent.

Usually, when worried, Teddy would ask question after question. It had been that way initially, but now as the time of Draco’s absence extended into almost three hours, Teddy was silent and had been for some time.  He stared out the window as he snuggled up to his godfather on the couch in front of the fire. Harry wasn’t sure if Teddy was listening, but he continually spoke what he hoped were soothing and comforting words to the boy he loved as a son.

Harry’s concern mixed with a touch of anger, and he was left a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. What had happened? Why hadn’t he been able to at least send an owl or floo? Was something wrong or had he gotten caught up in work and not been considerate enough to contact them? Harry knew Draco would never purposely want to make him, or especially Teddy worry, but he was passionate about his job and had in the past gotten too caught up in what he was doing. Fortunately those times Harry had been able to cover, but even he couldn’t protect Teddy from this.

Just as Harry was about to start waking people up in the middle of the night to start searching for Draco there was a loud pop in the front hallway, a sign someone who had access to their wards had just apparated into the house.

Teddy was up and out of Harry’s arms before the older man had his two feet on the ground, though the older man’s height made up for the late start and they both reached the hallway at the same time.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! The last meeting ran over and then there was a problem with the portkey from Paris since we had ended so late. I wanted to just apparate but the ministry over there is such a pain in the arse. They kept saying they were going to get the portkey sorted out and that apparating from inside the Ministry building was not allowed. Merlin! That’s the last time I try and do their country a favor!”

Draco finally stopped talking long enough to give Harry and hug and to bend down to envelope Teddy into his arms as well. That should have been their first sign that something was wrong, but the relief Harry felt, and the stress of having so many travel issues from Draco overrode their notice that Teddy did not fling his arms around Draco as was normal. He stood back as Harry and Draco hugged and then flinched when Draco reached out to him.

Draco’s pleading apologies fell on deaf ears as Teddy continued to shrink back from him with wide, and heartbreakingly untrusting eyes. Draco nor Harry had ever seen that look, and it was more frightening than anything. Even when Teddy had a panic attack about missing them, he had always trusted that they would show up, just as they promised, even if they were late.

Finally Draco fell silent and looked helplessly up at Harry from his kneeling position. Harry dropped down to Teddy’s level, beside Draco, and tried to speak to his godson. Harry’s defense of Draco though seemed to anger the boy, enough that Teddy reached out as quick as lightening and slapped Draco across the face. Stunned and hurt beyond belief Draco fell back onto his bum as Teddy flew up the stairs.

“Wh…what was that?” Draco asked Harry, heartbreak in his voice. “I don’t understand. I know he’s upset at me for being late. But why did he hit me?”

Harry reached over to run his fingertips along the red cheekbone of the man he loved, at a loss for words.

“Should I go talk to him? I really didn’t mean to be gone so long, I knew he’d be upset. But I thought I would get a tear-filled armful of him, not a slap across the face. He’s so angry with me Harry. I didn’t mean for this to happen! I should have just apparated away from that miserable place!” Draco’s voiced raised, as panic and hurt bubbled over.

Harry was broken with what to do. He knew it wasn’t Draco’s fault that he was late, but Teddy didn’t, or couldn’t, understand that. All Teddy saw was Draco being gone for three days, and then missing for hours. Every fear Teddy had was confirmed during those hours, and Harry wasn’t sure how to fix it.

“Draco, it’ll be alright. He’ll calm down, he always does.”

“He just hit me Harry! Our boy just hit me, because of something I did to him. How is that anywhere close to alright?!” The panic was palpable in Draco’s voice, and Harry knew well enough that panic in Draco quickly turned to acute anxiety, which eventually led to hastily and not thought-out actions. If Harry wasn’t careful they would end up with a new Nimbus 3000 in the house as present for Teddy by the morning.

“I’ll go tuck him bed, and then we’ll all sit down at breakfast and talk through everything. Once he realizes you are here, and that it was just a one-time incident, we’ll be alright.”

_____________________________________________________________________

But it wasn’t alright, and it hadn’t been for almost three months since the incident. Teddy felt betrayed, that’s what he had told both Harry and Draco the next morning at breakfast. The men had been so stunned they didn’t know how to respond. At 22 neither of them felt prepared to handle such a feeling from a 6 year old.

The first week was hell, especially for Draco. Teddy would not be even be in the same room alone with him. During the day was alright as Teddy was at school and Harry worked. Harry’s current case though was causing some long hours and Teddy hid himself in his room until the auror arrived home.

The first month had seen them visiting Andromeda often, asking for advice, and help with what to do. Teddy had finally gone back to being perfectly normal with Harry, but acted like Draco did not even exist. Draco was almost to his breaking point. He had grown to love Teddy as a son, and they had been a family in every sense of the word. To now see the boy look through him, ignore him, and walk out of the room when he entered, caused a crushing sensation that had Draco sobbing into Harry’s chest almost nightly.

Draco had always been strong. He had to be to get through his childhood, the War, and turning his life around after losing almost everything. He had learned to open his heart and love, first to Harry and then Teddy. The only other person he thought he had ever truly loved was his mother.

The reason Draco liked potion making so much was that it had a standard set of rules. You add the wrong ingredient, or stir one too many times, or have the fire to hot you know what went wrong. Six year old boys don’t come with a set of instructions.  After trying all they could think of, Harry and Draco were still no closer to figuring out how to fix this.

At the beginning of the third month, they called in a healer specializing in treating the mind. Teddy was no better and the strain on both Harry and Draco individually, as well as on their relationship was splintering the once happy family. Harry was stuck in the middle between the two people he loved most in this world. Draco had lost one of the only two people he loved, and Teddy was more anxious and distraught as time went on. Dinners and breakfasts were almost silent affairs now. Teddy’s grades at school were slipping, Draco was so distracted at work he was throwing out as many wrong potions as he was making decent ones; and Harry was contemplating asking to be taken off field duty because he was so unfocused.

The healer began by meeting individually with each of them, then meeting with Draco and Harry together, and ending with a meeting that included just Harry and Teddy. It had hurt Draco immensely to hear Teddy flatly refuse to meet in the same room as him. It was a slow and arduous process, the last hour made worse as Draco sat alone in the silent living room.

The healer had left, promising to send an owl with her thoughts and findings the following day, and a plan for how they proceeded from here. She promised them it would take time, but they would work on this together. She never promised it would be the same as before.

She did send her notes and a plan but they never got around to following through on it.

_______________________________________________________________________

Harry was still in the field each day, on assignment, out capturing some of the most dangerous witches and wizards. It was a source of consternation for Draco, and stress for Teddy, as it always had been. But Harry often said after Voldemort, a simple potion dealer trying to sell bad potions was nothing. For three years Harry went to work each day and came home. Sometimes a little late, sometimes with blood on his hands or clothes, but he always came home. Until one day he didn’t.

Their first appointment with the healer was scheduled one week after their initial meeting. Harry had said he would be home early from work so that they could make their appointment on time. At 4 in the afternoon Harry did not arrive. At 4:05, Draco is on his knees in front of the fireplace trying to fire call Harry’s office, but finds it blocked.

All of Draco’s nerves are immediately on end. He knows something is wrong. This meeting is too important for their family for Harry to be even a minute late. Desperate he sends his owl with a note to Harry at the ministry with three words on it:

                _We need you_

Minutes after releasing his own owl, a ministry one arrives. The note, written on official letterhead from the head auror is short and to the point: Head Auror King, Auror Weasley, and several others will be arriving at the house in 15 minutes. That’s it, nothing more, no other information. The sense of dread settling in Draco’s body forces him to his knees. The strangled sob that escapes his throat must be loud enough to alert Teddy to a problem because the boy appears at the top of the stairs staring down at Draco with pure panic in his eyes. He must have realized that Harry was late, but chose to avoid Draco at all costs, only coming at the sound of fear escaping the older man’s mouth.

The knock at the front door reverberates through the entire house. It hasn’t been 15 minutes, but Draco knows who is standing on their front stoop.

“Teddy, go back into your room and don’t come out until I get you.” Draco whispers to the boy. Fear has constricted his voice, he isn’t sure Teddy has even heard him.

They stand, or kneel, in complete silence; frozen by fear and panic. The thoughts running through Draco’s head show pictures of Harry bloodied and dead on the floor of some abandoned house, his brilliant green eyes void of the light that brought purpose to Draco’s own life.

Knocks again pound at the front door, followed by Weasley’s voice, “Draco, if you can hear me open the door! We don’t have time to break the wards!”

Time, why is time so important if Harry is dead? Through the fog of desolation comes a glimmer of something else, not hope, but a slight lightening of the dread that has settled into Draco’s body.

More knocks and urgent voices came through the door again. Though it isn’t their voices he hears say his name.

“Draco?” It is the first time Teddy had spoken to him in a long time and he looks at the boy now standing directly in front of him.

“Draco, why is Uncle Ron here? Why haven’t you let him in? Why are you upset? Where’s Uncle Harry? He didn’t come home when he was supposed to. Why isn’t he home? Why are you upset? Why won’t you answer me?” The boy cries through his entire list of questions, tears running down his face, he becomes more and more lost with each unanswered question.

Overwhelmed. Draco feels overwhelmed…with panic, and fear, and anger, and desperation, and loss. He has always relied on Harry and he now Harry isn’t here, Harry can’t fix this if he isn’t here. The thought of Harry fixing everything is what finally forces Draco towards the front door. He can be strong, and he has to be now, for their boy.

Draco turns the doorknob and is immediately inundated with what feels like half the auror department. No one speaks directly to him or Teddy, instead they spread themselves throughout the house and grounds. Draco backs up until he is standing next to Teddy again, he slides down the wall and sits next to him. He reaches for the boys’ hand, hoping Teddy will not flinch away. He feels as if he is drowning and Teddy is his lifeline. The six year old turns panicked, unblinking eyes to Draco, tears staining his face, but no sobs escaping his body.

Draco pulls the boy onto his lap, hoping he isn’t crushing Teddy but feeling like he can never let go of him. Ron walks up a moment later and kneels in front of them. He speaks quietly, as if he hopes speaking softly will lessen the blow to come.

“Draco, can we talk somewhere without Teddy?”

“Yes, is there someone that can stay with him?” comes out of Draco’s mouth as the same time Teddy screams, “NO” and the sobs he had been holding in start wracking his small body.

Draco is in too much of a state of shock to contemplate arguing with Teddy let alone moving from the floor they both rest on.

Ron looks unsure about letting the boy stay while he talked to Draco, but the urgency of the situation overrides his doubts.

“I can’t tell you much about what Harry was doing, all you need to know is that he was working a case involving a ring selling potions that have the same effects as some muggle drugs. We had been working on getting close enough to apprehend the wizards responsible, and went to make the arrests today.

“Apparently it was a set up. Somehow they knew Harry was working on this case…what I’m trying to say is…they were ready for us and instead of putting up a fight…they took Harry.”

Draco listens closely up until that point. When the last three words fall out of Ron’s mouth a rushing sound blocks out any other noise. Harry is gone…he’s gone…someone took him…wizards planned to take him…why?

“Why?” Draco whispers. He really doesn’t want to know, but nothing else comes to mind.

“We don’t know for sure. The wizards we were following did not have any connections to any former Death Eaters. Naturally that’s the first thing we looked at.” Ron’s voice is calm, steady; very much in control. Draco supposes they teach that to all auror’s, but it doesn’t matter what tone of voice you use when telling someone their loved one is missing or dead, it still leads to complete devastation. If anything this angers Draco, and it is easier to turn to anger…the resulting devastation of knowing that Harry is gone is too shattering and his mind wants to protect itself.

“How can you not know who these people even are? You said you have been on this case for some time. What? Did you just throw Harry out there because you thought he’d be alright? Damn it Weasley, what the hell is going on? How dare you put him in so much danger?!” Draco explodes. He doesn’t care so much what he says, just that yelling is giving him some small sense of relief…anger is better than devastation.

Ron doesn’t flinch, something that Draco might have admired if the circumstances were different. In fact he ignores Draco’s outburst, content to get out the relevant information as quickly as possible.

“There was a note found in the chaos left after the fight. It said that the kidnappers, for want of a better term, would contact _you_ this evening. As soon as we knew there could also be a threat against you, and Teddy, we sent aurors to station themselves outside your house.

“The rest of us followed 5 minutes later and what you see now is a complete lockdown and protection of the house. We are putting up every defensive spell known to us, and looking for any clues here that might lead us to whoever did this.” Ron finally finishes, low and steady.

Draco finds his voice through the anger, “Harry never brought work home. He always left his files and everything else at the office. We didn’t want that here, especially not around Teddy.”

It’s the only thing Draco can hold on to. For whatever reason it feels like it is all he can contribute, he doesn’t know what else to say. Nothing is making sense and he’s trying to hang on, for himself and for the boy still sitting and sobbing in his arms.

“We know, but there’s a hope that maybe he kept something here that he hadn’t told you about. I know things have been…difficult lately, and that he has shortened his hours at the office. Maybe he ended up bringing something home. We just don’t know right now, so we’re looking at everything.” Ron concluded.

The sting of guilt, that is always flowing under the surface after the incident with Teddy almost three months earlier, should be rubbing him raw right now. But the desolation that has settled into his bones over the last ten minutes has numbed it into a dull ache that gets swept up in all the other emotions currently clouding his brain.

“Auror Weasley?” comes from somewhere behind Ron’s shoulder, Draco tries to focus on the young woman standing in the doorway to the living room, but fails miserably.

Without even turning around Ron answers, “Just a moment Shackelton. Give me a minute.”

Draco focuses back on Ron’s face. The tough auror exterior slips for a moment. Muted blue eyes meet grey ones and display the hurt he feels at having letting down his best friend, telling the blond haired man in front of him, “I’m so sorry Draco. We’re going to do everything in our power, and any other power we can find, to bring him back to the both of you.”

Draco lays his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. His world is spinning out of control. Harry is gone, they have no idea where he is or who has taken him. The man he loves is out of reach and the boy in his arms hasn’t spoken to him in over two months. That thought breaks any barrier there is between Draco and his greatly held self-control. Silent tears start to slip down his pale face, matching the boys’ sobs, if not in sound, at least in amount.

The two of them stay that way, letting Ron leave them and the commotion to continue in their home. What feels like hours later, but is at most 30 minutes, Ron returns with Head Auror King and they sit down in front of the now silent boy and the man who holds him tight.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Auror King’s authoritative voice pulls Draco out of his stupor. “We’re finished with the house. As you told Auror Weasley, Auror Potter seemed to bring no work about this case home.”

“So after tearing through our house for the last hour, you discovered nothing that will bring Harry home?” It comes out of Draco’s mouth angrier than he has intended…but anger is easier than devastation.

“No, nothing of use to the case, at this time. Though we expect the note from the wizard, or wizards that took Harry to arrive shortly. In the mean time we’ve set up as many wards and defensive spells around the house as we can. We will need your permission to set up any protective spells on your person as well as young Teddy here.”

Draco only nods his head, feeling as if saving his words for only the most imperative conversations is now important.

King calls for two auror’s who quickly set about laying protective charms on Draco and Teddy. Draco, use to the feeling of magic sweeping through and over his body, hardly notices the effect. Teddy on the other hand, much less familiar with what it feels like squirms and even gasps as one particular spell, connected to the very core of a wizards magic, spread through him.

Once finished, the two auror’s back away and leave the foursome as they were before.

Head Auror King continues, “We ask that you not leave the house. We have blocked all access by Floo Network, except to those aurors involved in this case. If there are any family members that you would like to give clearance to, we can discuss that in a few days’ time. And five aurors will now be stationed day and night in and around the house.”

“A few days’ time?” Questioning looks follow Draco’s statement, so he continues, “You said we could have family and friends over in a few days. Is this going to last that long?”

King and Weasley share a look, something that angers Draco enough he starts building up a good head of steam to release on the men in front of him. He’s not able to release is though as sirens, indicating that someone or something is trying to enter the wards set up around the house, start going off in spectacular fashion.

A flurry of activity goes through the house at the sound. Every auror reacts in some way, none of them necessarily running, but they all move with definite intent. The men sitting in front of Draco stand up and head to their appointed areas. Everything seems to work in the correct order, but the shrieking that sounds throughout the house rattles Draco down to his bones and make Teddy begin to shake.

It eventually stops, as abruptly as it started, and a mass of five auror’s burst through the front door with a piece of rolled parchment in one of their hands, and are met by King and Ron.

“What is that?” Draco asks. No one hears him over the din of their conversation. He tries again, louder, “What is that?!”

Still nothing. Angered now that he is being ignored when he feels sure that letter has been the one they have been waiting for, the letter that would help find the man he loves, he bellows, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

Silent and somewhat stunned faces looked his way. The auror’s quickly recover their professional demeanor, but not before Draco registered pity in some of their faces as they observed him and Teddy still sitting on the floor, with tear streaked faces and red rimmed eyes. Draco is trying so very hard to be strong, but the events surrounding him are making that almost impossible and all he wants are answers on how to make his family whole once again.

Head Auror King walks over to Draco and Teddy, bringing the letter with him.

“We’re assuming it’s what we’ve been waiting for.” states King. Draco only nods his head as activity resumes in the house following his outburst. He thinks, somewhere in the back of his head, that he should be embarrassed about yelling, or more correctly swearing, at the top of his lungs in front of all these people. But truthfully he doesn’t care.

Draco hoped King would continue without any prompting from Draco, he really doesn’t want to ask the questions that are running through his mind. Just then, though, the fireplace in the living room jumps to life with green flames, and the petite form of Hermione Granger unfolds itself gracefully from the large opening.

Draco lets out the first sigh of relief he has had all night. Besides falling in love with Harry and having Teddy be a part of his life, Hermione is the next best part of being in love with a Gryffindor. She has become the type of friend he never knew he needed. Loving, caring, pushy, demanding, honest, helpful, supportive, and above all else accepts him for who he is. He trusts her, she trusts him, and he needs her now. It also helps that she is one of the most gifted Healers currently at St. Mungo’s and could help with the physical health of Teddy and even aspects of his mental health. Whoever had let her link into the protected Floo is going to get a very handsome reward when Harry is finally home again.

She spots Draco and Teddy almost immediately, takes in the sight in front of her, and steels her features to show love, hope, and help as she approaches.

“Hey,” it comes out clear and strong, and 100% Hermione. “Ron explained briefly what’s going on in his owl. Has the letter arrived yet?”

 Unbridled relief fills Draco that she is here and has some idea what was going on, he turns his attention back to King, who still holds the rolled up parchment in his hand.

“We were just getting ready to open it. It has been checked for any harmful spells or charms, and it’s now safe to open. Since it is addressed to you directly Mr. Malfoy, you have to be the one to open it.”

Draco nods, but hesitates before reaching out and taking the letter. The thought of what it could contain, what might happen when he opens it, and how he may react make him pause. Even though he trusts the auror’s, to a point, Draco isn’t sure having Teddy on his lap while he broke the seal is such a good idea.

His hand, still extended out in front of him, stalls as he looks down at the boy in his lap. Teddy is currently staring off into space, not looking or focusing on anything in particular. One hand clings to the front of Draco’s shirt. The other is balled up with his thumb stuck in his mouth, returning to a habit Draco and Harry had broken him of just last year, it is a sign of distress and the comfort he needs. The love he feels for the boy in his lap, and the anguish of what had been happening over the last three months wells up in Draco and he drops his hand to run his fingers through Teddy’s hair. He is lost between the need to help Harry and the need to protect Teddy.

He keeps carding his fingers through Teddy’s hair, which has turned the dullest shade of brown Draco has ever seen him sport. The young boy had not reacted to Draco’s touch, and in fact with shame Draco realizes he can’t even remember the last time Teddy had registered anything going on him around. Draco can’t remember when Teddy’s tears had stopped and the guilt of not taking care of Teddy in Harry’s absence burns Draco. He is a horrible person, too enveloped in his own grief to be there for the child wrapped in his arms.

He looks at Hermione and hopes she can be an answer to at least one problem.

“Hermione, can you take Teddy into the kitchen and get him some supper?” It is the only option he can think of to get Teddy away while he deals with whatever is to come. He has to take care of their boy now. He has to step up, and faced with the possibility of finding out how to help Harry brings that into sharp focus.

Hermione nods, focusing in on Teddy and the best way to extract him from Draco’s lap.

“Teddy, sweetheart? It’s Aunt Hermione. Why don’t we go get something to eat?” She says quietly, but does not to reach out to him in case he would be startled. He doesn’t look at her, does not even seem to register that someone is talking to him.

It’s terrifying to see him like this. Draco isn’t sure he should even try to reach the boy. Yes, Teddy had come to Draco and let him be a comfort, but what would happen when the shock wore off? He has to try though.

“Darling, Aunt Hermione is going to fix you something for supper. I’m sure she would fix you whatever you would like to eat.”

Silence follows, but at least Teddy seems to have registered Draco’s voice, because the boy shifts minutely in his lap and slowly, s _lowly_ raises his eyes to look at Hermione.

She gives the boy a warm smile, not to brilliant, just enough to be a comfort and show her love, for she truly does love him. He just stares at her, there are no tears left, and his body while tense no longer shakes. He honestly looks as if he could fall asleep at any moment, if his eyes weren’t currently registering the terror he felt.

Finally reaching out a hand toward him, Hermione smooth’s back the fringe on his forehead and looks into his eyes. She runs a thoughtful gaze over his face and body checking him over and taking in the physical state of him using her Healer expertise. Seemingly satisfied that he is holding up physically as well as could be expected, she runs her hand down his arm and covers the hand clenched tightly onto Draco’s shirt and rubs the back of his hand with her thumb.

Teddy finally relaxes his grip on Draco and shifts just enough for Hermione to wrap an arm around the small body and lift. Hermione speaks soothing, comforting words to him that seemed lost on Draco now that the weight of _their_ boy isn’t holding him down. The sense of loss almost overwhelms him again and he has to bite back the gasp that wants to slip past his lips. Nothing prepares him for the lack of comfortable warmth, the source of which is now curled in Hermione’s arms, and Draco wants to reach out and snatch Teddy back. He can’t though, he is being strong for Harry and Teddy; and the sooner Teddy goes with Hermione the sooner they can read the letter that hopefully holds some answers about Harry’s whereabouts.

Draco watches Hermione’s retreating back until her and Teddy disappear through the kitchen door, he fights every urge in his body to run after them. It doesn’t help that Teddy stared over Hermione’s shoulder straight into Draco’s heart.

A throat clears next to him, bringing Draco back to the present and the reason why he has had to send Teddy away in the first place.

Without forethought about what he is about to read, Draco slips his finger under the seal holding the letter together.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, perhaps not well, but at least in perfect physical health. Although I would guess by now your mental health might be suffering somewhat._

_I assure you that no harm will come to your Saviour, as long as you follow my directions closely. My intention was never to harm Potter, but you prove a difficult wizard to track down. I would guess your lovely partner would have something to do with that, his protective spells are really quite powerful…shame he didn’t think to cover himself in the same._

_Currently I wish for you to do nothing. I am quite enjoying the company of your lovely partner and I sincerely hope the separation from him is causing you as much pain as possible. It’s really only fair as you caused so many loved ones to be separated permanently._

_I will send instructions in a few days as to what I want to happen next._

_Until then, be well and give your boy a kiss for me!_

As soon as Draco reads the last line the letter starts to smoke and then bursts into flames, not unlike a howler.

“Shit!” comes Ron’s voice and three sets of hands start to reach for the now smoking letter. They are all too late though as the paper turns to ash, completely and utterly destroyed.

“Draco, quickly, what did it say?”

“Mr. Malfoy can you remember what the letter said?”

“It’s imperative you tell us anything you remember, now.”

“Draco?”

“Mr. Malfoy?”

All Draco hears is buzzing, like flies, just constant buzzing. No voices, but words, words from the letter bounce around in his head.

“It’s my fault.” It comes out of his mouth broken, but honest.

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, what was that?”

Draco stares at the Head Auror and repeats himself, “It’s my fault. That’s what the letter said. Harry was taken because of me.”

“Draco, what else did it say? What do they want?” Ron’s voice is calm but a hint of panic is hidden in it. His demeanor would have fooled the casual observer, but after so many family dinners and time spent together Draco is able to read Ron well. The panic hits Draco like a ton of bricks. He’s trying, desperately, to find the anger again, but the devastation is drowning him…completely.

Draco gasps as he feels like his heart and lungs are being constricted, very much like apparating, but 100 times worse, and it doesn’t let up after a few moments.

He can’t take a breath in, can’t breathe out. His heart must still be working because it is pounding away in his chest so loudly the voices of those around him are drowned out. Gaping like a fish out of water, the lack of oxygen causes black spots to burst in front of his eyes. Draco recognizes, almost like an outsider, that this panic attack feels like the ones he had after the war. But then his mind betrays him even more and he thinks of how Harry had been there to help him with those.

He feels hands on his face and then neck, Draco tries to fight them off but has no energy…no strength left to fight and mercifully everything goes dark.

______________________________________________________

Draco wakes to sun streaming through the bedroom window, wrapped completely in Harry’s scent and reaches out for the man that is supposed to be in bed next to him. Instead he feels nothing but cold sheets, and the events of the previous day start flooding his mind. Icy panic seeps through his bones and opens his eyes better than any alarm has ever been able to. Voices in the hallway alert him to strangers in the house, and panic for Teddy mixes with his anguish over Harry.

He knows the voices he hears belong to the auror’s protecting them and he even thinks he recognizes Hermione’s voice, but the thought that he  wasn’t been the first person Teddy saw when he woke up rips at his already shredded heart.

The question of what has happened in the search for Harry while he slept runs through his foggy mind. How could he have slept so long while Harry is out there, missing and held by wizards smart enough to trick a large group of aurors? Have they heard from Harry’s captors again? Merlin, he hadn’t even been able to tell them what the letter had said! The fact that he hadn’t been able to hold on long enough to be any kind of help burns Draco’s face and settles as an aching hole in his stomach.

Draco jumps out of bed, shame and panic forcing his actions forward as he starts grabbing shirts and trousers from his wardrobe, not even noticing what he’s trying to put on. Never has he been so unfastidious with his clothing.

As he finishes the last button on his shirt the handle to the bedroom turns and Hermione slips into the room.

“Draco?”

“Where’s Teddy?”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

“How is he? Is he alright? Has he asked for me…what about Harry? I need to speak to the aurors, I couldn’t tell them last night what the letter said and they need to know. I have to tell them what it said and then get to Teddy. Move Hermione!”

“Draco, wait a moment, please. Just a take a breath. I made breakfast for Teddy and he is in the kitchen eating. And the aurors know the content of the letter that was written to you, so don’t worry about that either. You need to take a moment for yourself.”

She speaks quickly, but Draco still catches everything and shock covers his face.

“How do the aurors know what was written? The letter was incinerated as soon as I finished reading it?”

Hermione tries to hide the shudder that runs through her body and Draco immediately knows it’s bad.

“How do they know, Hermione? Tell me now.”

“Draco…” Her voice comes out quiet and unsure. She’s trying to protect him, but he doesn’t need that from her now. He needs the truth and she always gives him that.

“Don’t! Don’t do that. You never treat me like I’m weak. Please I need assurance from you now. I need to know that you still think I can handle anything…even if _I’m_ not sure I can.”

Hermione takes a deep breath in, holds it a moment before exhaling, and plunges ahead.

“The kidnappers sent a copy of the letter they wrote you, as well as picture of Harry to the Daily Prophet. Of course those snakes over there ran the story and picture without getting a hold of the Ministry first. The managing editor has been taken in for questioning, but the fact remains that the article was still run in this morning’s paper.” Hermione stops as Draco sinks to the bed, covering his mouth in horror with shaking hands. She kneels in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his knee as she waits for whatever comes next.

“There’s a picture…” it’s a whisper barely audible to Hermione even as close as they are, but it comes out of Draco’s mouth and she has to answer him.

“Yes Draco, but-“

“I have to see it now, where’s the paper?” Draco is up and at the door before Hermione can stand up. He pounds frantically down the stairs running into the living room where the auror’s have set up their headquarters in the house. He has no trouble finding a newspaper as there are three sitting on the table in the middle of the room. He ignores the man and woman standing next to the fireplace and grabs the nearest copy.

**_THE SAVIOUR TAKEN!_ ** _HARRY POTTER CAPTURED IN THE LINE OF DUTY BY UNKNOWN WIZARDS!_

The headline flashes across the top of paper. Below it is Harry. Draco immediately wishes that wizard photographs were more like muggle ones, that way he couldn’t see Harry fighting against the restraints holding him back. If the picture never moved he wouldn’t have to see the wand come in to view and aim what Draco only assumed was the _Cruciatus Curse_ at the man he loves. Harry tries to fight it, Draco can tell by the look on his face, but not even the strongest wizard is able to hold out for as long as Harry’s captors aim their curse at him. The last image before the picture loops back to the beginning shows Harry collapsing to the floor.

Hermione enters the room with Ron trailing closely behind her. He must have been somewhere in the house acting as one of the guards. It doesn’t occur to him until moments later he was probably with Teddy and Draco’s thoughts immediately turn to the boy.

“Teddy hasn’t seen this has he?”

Ron answers the question that was aimed at Hermione, “No, we have kept all information and discussions contained to this room.”

Thank Merlin for small favors is all Draco can think of for a moment before the sight of a screaming Harry catches his eye again. He drops the paper in revulsion and stands, heading for the kitchen and Teddy.  

Hermione stops him though, “Wait a moment. You need to calm down before you go and see him.”

“Move Hermione. Now!” it comes out as a growl but he doesn’t care. Harry is being _Crucioed_ on the front of the Daily Prophet and all Draco wants to do is see their boy.

She doesn’t budge though and Draco’s anger erupts, “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY, OR I SWEAR BY MERLIN YOU WON’T-“

Ron doesn’t let him finish, instead he takes Draco by the shoulder and shoves him against the closest wall. His voice remains calm but danger flashes through Ron’s eyes as he speaks, “I know you are upset and scared right now, and that the fucking Prophet has proven once again what piece of shite it is, but raising your voice to Hermione won’t help. Now take a breath and get yourself together.”

Hermione speaks up as she moves to Ron’s side, staring at Draco as she speaks, “I know you, and I know right now you don’t give a thestrals arse about anything other than Teddy and Harry, but if you go in there like this you are going to regret it. I also know that if you don’t calm yourself down I’m going to have to sedate you again and then how are you going to be any help to either of them?”

Taking a steadying breath Draco tries to regulate his heartrate and breathing. She’s right, when isn’t Hermione right? And he needs to be the most help he can for Harry and their boy, so he nods his head yes when Hermione asks to cast a diagnostic spell over him just to make sure he’s physically alright.

“Besides what is to be expected with this situation, you seem fine. Though if your blood pressure remains where it’s at or goes any higher I’m going to have to do something about it.” Her tone is clipped and Draco imagines this is what she is like at every bedside she’s worked at, efficient, calm, and caring.

He looks into her brown eyes for a moment and she envelops him in a hug, holding him for a few moments. The warmth of her eases a small part of the knot that is his heart and helps to steady his breathing even more. When she seems satisfied she releases him and lets him go out the door.

In the kitchen Draco finds Teddy sitting and eating his toast, at least it looks like he could be eating toast, in fact he’s just crumbling it into his hands and letting the crumbs fall on the floor. He sits alone at the table in his normal seat, leaving the spots where Draco and Harry normally sit empty. It adds one more splinter to Draco’s heart to see Teddy sitting at a table that should be filled with food, tea, and coffee as well as the three souls that make a family; especially after what he has just witnessed on the front page of the Prophet. The slight pressure of a hand on his back reminds Draco that there are sure to be more instances where he wants to lose it, but he can’t for Teddy’s sake.

Draco approaches the despondent boy, unsure of what will happen, terrified that he’s going to be turned away. They had been in such a horrendous place for months, Teddy had completely shut down yesterday out of self-preservation, and now he hasn’t even acknowledged Draco’s presence. He’s not sure  he can handle Teddy shutting him out, it might be the last thing that completely and totally devastates him, he’s going to end up begging Hermione to sedate him if that happens.

Teddy finally looks up from his breakfast when Draco is only three steps away. The boy warily looks at the man in front of him, and Draco holds his breath. The blond feels as if he is standing on a precipice, one breath and he will fall. Another step toward Teddy sees the boy drop his hands into his lap, one more step and he pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

Finally, Draco kneels in front of him and brushes the dull brown fringe off the boy’s forehead. Teddy rests his chin on top of his knees and continues to stare at Draco as the man cards his fingers through his hair.

“Morning, darling.” Draco stops, he has no idea what to say to the lost boy in front of him. Though being this close to Teddy and giving him any kind of comfort would have seemed impossible only two days ago, Teddy never would have allowed it. It brings Draco some small sense of relief that Teddy hasn’t pushed him away, at least not yet.

They sit like this for a moment, no one says anything.

Finally Hermione comes to the rescue, “Draco, would you like some breakfast? You can join Teddy as he finishes his.”

Draco makes one last pass over Teddy’s fringe and chances a kiss to the boy’s forehead before standing and walking to his chair. He thinks it is the best he could have hoped for as he walks to his seat.

Hermione sets a plate of eggs and toast in front of Draco, and pushes the bowl of fresh fruit that was already there towards him.

Draco looks at the food and contemplates following Teddy’s example. He’s sure any food he eats right now is going to taste like wood. Hermione fixes herself a plate and pulls out Harry’s chair to sit in.

“NO!!!” Teddy yells from his curled up position. The voice is so loud it reverberates around the room. Hermione realizes her mistake a moment a moment later, and quickly let’s go of the back of the chair.

Her eyes wide, but voice calm, she quickly recovers, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize who’s chair that was. Of course we have to save Harry’s spot. He’ll need it soon.”

Draco is frozen for a moment. He can’t blame Teddy for reacting as he does, the thought of someone else in Harry’s place feels utterly wrong. Draco reaches across the table to try and cover Teddy’s hand with his own, to try and soothe his fears, but the boy pulls back.

Draco flinches as Teddy explodes, “You were going to let her sit there! That’s Harry’s spot, she can’t sit there!”

“I know darling, Hermione just made a mistake. She didn’t know.”

“I don’t care! I want Harry back now! He should be here, not her. And not you!”

That’s it Draco is going to have to beg Hermione to start sedating him. Teddy runs from the room, slamming the door behind him and pounding up the steps.

The two adults stare at each other as an auror comes through the door.

“Is everything alright Mr. Malfoy? We heard raised voices.”

Hermione looks at the auror and has to answer for Draco as he is in shock.

“Yes, everything’s alright. It’s just Teddy, he’s upset, as is to be expected.”

The auror nods solemnly, and backs out of the kitchen. Hermione turns back to Draco with worried eyes.

“Draco? Draco. You need to go talk to him.”

He doesn’t respond, only stares at the spot where Teddy sat. The hurt of Teddy finally saying what Draco had guessed all along is overwhelmingly terrifying.

“Draco.” There’s worry now in Hermione’s voice. He’s been sitting and staring at Teddy’s empty chair for almost five minutes. The healer in Hermione knows he needs a moment, but the friend is terrified for the man that is missing the two loves of his life.

“He hates me…” It’s not a question. It’s not even a statement that falls out of Draco’s mouth. It’s an oath, a whispered truth that shakes him to his very core.

“No Draco, he doesn’t. He’s scared. He’s afraid of losing his loved ones. He wants to push you away because he thinks you’re going to leave him. He’s been through so much in 6 short years, he needs you now. Even if he doesn’t know it, even if he doesn’t let you in, you have to be there for him. Go and see him, now.”

Draco feels a hand under his elbow, forcing him to stand up.

“I don’t know what to say to him.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect Draco. All he needs to hear is that you love him, and you’re going to be here for him.”

“I wasn’t though.”

“What?”

Draco sighs, he doesn’t want to explain, not now. “I let him down. He’s been so mad at me for so long-“

“No, stop it. That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you are here to take care of him, that you help each other. Be the man he needs to get through this.”

Draco thanks Merlin for Hermione, once again.

The boy inside Draco, the one that was not brave enough to stand up to anyone, the one that put on a mask every time something was too difficult, the one that made every effort to make others feel as bad as he did, wants to be a coward.

He wants to hide, let others fix this, _Harry would fix this if he were here._

Harry would know what to say. He would know how to make Teddy feel better. He would be able to wrap his arms around Draco and promise him never to leave again.

The blond wonders why he never made Harry promise that _to him_. Teddy, at six, was smart enough to make them promise to always stay.

Draco thinks all of this as he approaches the boy’s door, but when he arrives at his destination he still has no better idea of what to say to him.

He knocks anyway, but doesn’t hear a sound in response.

He knocks again, but still there’s silence. Unsure of whether to invade the sanctuary of a six year old, he tries to talk through the door.

“Teddy? Teddy is it alright if I come in?” The quiet that follows is frightening. He hasn’t heard Harry’s voice in 26 hours, and now Teddy has only spoken a handful of times in the last day. Draco enjoys the silence sometimes, but now it’s deafening.

Finding his inner Gryffindor, that Harry claims is in there, Draco pushes the door open and finds Teddy curled up in the center of his bed, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.

In the end he doesn’t have to say a word. The tears running down Teddy’s face bring their own to Draco’s. They end up huddled together, letting tears stain their faces, until they both fall into an unrestful slumber. The up and down, anxiety, fear, and straining hopelessness finally taking their toll.

They sleep the morning away. Draco wakes up and feels warmth that is unexpected, before reality takes over. Teddy had not pushed him away when he came into his room, but that doesn’t change the fact that he shouldn’t have to be here doing this. Draco casts a _tempus_ and realizes they should be getting ready for Harry to come home from work for lunch, not wondering if he’ll ever come home.

Teddy stirs and burrows down closer to Draco, but opens his eyes the next moment.

“Draco?”

“Yes darling.”

“Is Harry home yet?”

Draco has to swallow over the lump in his throat multiple times before he can speak.

“Not yet. But the aurors are doing everything they can to bring him back to us.”

“Harry will come home right…he won’t leave us. He won’t go away like my mum and dad, will he?”

“No sweetheart. Harry won’t leave us. I’m sure, right now, he’s trying so hard to get back to us. Soon he’ll bang through the front door and ask where his dinner is.”

In the dark it feels safe to say these things. It’s easier to promise that Harry will be home soon. He can’t see the faces of the aurors as they prowl their house, can’t see the anxiety that shows on Hermione and Ron’s faces, can’t see his own anxiety reflected in the mirror back to him. It’s better like this, even though it feels cowardly.

Teddy’s muffled voice raises up to him again, “He’s always hungry when he gets home from work. He says he could eat a hippogriff, and still have room for dessert.”

A hint of a smile crosses Draco’s face at that. It’s one of the things that brought Draco and Harry together, Draco cooks and Harry eats. It’s a perfect example of how they work, of how they are a perfect balance for each other. Harry loves Draco’s cooking, even if he doesn’t always know what he’s eating.

“What do you think we should make for Harry when he gets home?” It may be the wrong thing to do, to get Teddy’s hopes up. But Draco needs the idea, he thinks, as much as the boy does. So he asks the question, hoping for a few brief moments they can look forward to the time they are all together again.

“Well daddy likes anything you cook, so you could make-“ Teddy stops mid-sentence and buries his face into the duvet. Draco too, has stilled, and is holding onto his breath, just so his heart doesn’t splinter into pieces.

This conversations has happened before. Andromeda had caught Teddy calling Harry daddy, and had been irate. She thought Harry was trying to take Remus and Tonks’ place and had forbidden it. It was the only time they had not agreed on an issue concerning Teddy.

Harry, only twenty at the time, and still learning how to raise another man’s child had given in. Teddy had been four and had only been living with them for six months. It was the first true test of whether their living arrangement was going to work. Draco had followed Harry’s lead, even more unsure of what the right thing to do was. Eventually, they had worked it all out. That’s how Harry had become Uncle Harry.

Draco had not ever heard it brought up again. He assumed there might have been other conversations he had not been a part of, but he never pried. There are many unknowns in raising a boy that had lost his parents so young, and they were all still learning their way. Though, right now, that seemed absolutely ridiculous, and Draco was going to say so.

“Teddy. Darling, it’s alright.”

A sob was all the response Draco received.

“Sweetheart, look at me. Come on, look at me here. I’ll tell you something.”

Lavender eyes, the color Teddy always turns to when upset, look up from their hiding place.

“Teddy, it’s alright if you want to call Harry daddy. I know Nana asked you not to, but it’s alright.”

“Nana said Harry wasn’t my real daddy, so I shouldn’t call him that…even though I want to.”

“Harry loves you, and he always will. I know it’s confusing sometimes, but you can’t ever forget that. A daddy is someone who loves you, and takes care of you, and makes sure you’re safe and sound. You love Harry, and he loves you, and that’s all that matters.”

It may be crossing a line, Andromeda might not be happy; and he hopes to Merlin he is doing the right thing by Lupin. Draco had come to respect the werewolf like he never had been able to before. But Draco isn’t going to tell Teddy he is wrong in this, because he isn’t. Teddy loves Harry, and Harry has been the only real father Teddy has ever known.

The brown haired boy stares at Draco for long moments, never breaking his gaze. Teddy is an intense thinker, and the wrinkle between his brows that always shows up when he’s thinking intently is firmly planted on his forehead.

“What about Nana. She doesn’t think Harry’s really my daddy.”

Draco wishes he had a good answer, but he doesn’t. He understands the need to have a father that loved, cared, and supported you as that had been lacking in his own life.

“I know darling. But Nana loves you so much and wants you to be as happy as possible. If calling Harry daddy makes you happy, then she will be alright with it.”

The same thoughtful look remains on Teddy’s face, and he’s silent for a few minutes. Finally he sits up, prompting Draco to sit cross legged in front of him, as Teddy hugs his knees.

“I want to call Harry daddy.” It’s a statement so sincere and earnest that Draco can’t help but smile and pull the boy toward him into a massive hug. Teddy allows it and sighs, releasing the pressure and grief that has been holding onto him so tightly.

“So what should we make when Harry gets home then? I know we have to have treacle tart, but we can’t just have that, it won’t be enough!”

Teddy shifts away from Draco and frowns up at him. Draco worries that the boy has remembered he’s supposed to be mad at him.

“What do you want to make for daddy?”

Draco doesn’t get to answer as there is a knock at the bedroom door. Hermione sticks her head in and asks if they want lunch.

Scrambling from the bed, Teddy runs and follow her out the door.

Its progress at least, they had been there for each other. Teddy had let Draco in, and Draco had hopefully said the right things to be a comfort. He’s also been busy enough caring for their boy he’d been distracted briefly from the deep ache that is now starting to settle back in. They have to find Harry soon, Draco’s not sure he will be able to hang on without the man he loves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is still missing, Teddy is acting like a 6 year old, and Draco remembers the beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking for ever to update. This chapter got a little (alright a lot) longer than I had planned but I really wanted to tell their story and how it began. 
> 
> Just a warning there is some self harm and implied suicidal thoughts in this chapter.

**Chapter 2:**

Lunch is a quiet affair. Hermione has prepared something and she, Ron, Teddy, and Draco sit down at the counter in the center of the kitchen, wanting to avoid another scene around the family’s table.

Draco focuses on the food in front of him, but is more concerned on the boy next to him not eating anything again.

“Darling, your food is going to get cold. Why don’t you try and eat something?” Draco tries to interject subtly.

Light lavender eyes look at Draco and then flit to the plate in front of him. Hermione really is a decent cook and the food in another circumstance would be quite good, but as before even Draco is having a tough time tasting anything.

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you would like something else? I can fix you something different. I’m not sure what we have here, but if there’s something that sounds better I can make it. I-“

A slight hand on Draco’s arm stalls his progress. The man looks at Hermione and with an almost imperceptible shake of her head he knows he’s rambling. He focuses again on the boy next to him and realizes that Teddy’s head is bowed and slow tears are dripping down his face.

“Teddy, darling. You’re not in trouble, I just thought you would want something else to eat, maybe.” Draco says with alarm in his voice. Dear Merlin why can’t he get anything right.

The past three months have been hell, their current situation is beyond hell, and now every other decision Draco makes seems to be the wrong thing.

“I’m not hungry,” comes Teddy’s quiet voice, “nothing tastes good without daddy here.”

Harry’s absence does not leave any aspect of their lives untouched. He is their anchor, their support, their everything, and nothing is going to be unaffected by that loss. The simple statement that food tastes better when Harry is home sums that up more than anything else could.

It was a routine they had fallen into so naturally they didn’t even realize it anymore. Draco always cooked for the family, and they would wait until Harry was home to eat. The last few months had been hell, but even during that time the no one would eat until Harry came back from the office. It was something that was not to be messed with even in the deteriorated state the family had been in. Besides Harry couldn’t cook to save his life.

Harry had tried to make dinner for Draco all of once. They had just begun dating, and Harry felt like he still needed to impress Draco. The table, set with candles and flowers in the middle, welcomed him to Grimmauld for their first official date. Dinner though had been a complete and total disaster, and Draco made Harry promise he would never cook for him again.

The takeaway they ordered 20 minutes later was eaten on the floor of the lounge.

Harry and Draco’s friendship, which had developed over their last year at Hogwarts, had miraculously survived the transition to the outside world. And as they sat eating and laughing over the abysmal cooking that Harry had tried to impress Draco with, they were taking the first tentative steps toward something much more. That night was still one of Draco’s favorite memories.

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice brings the blond from his daydream, for that’s what it truly is, a daydream of a time and place when Harry was with him, healthy and happy.

He shifts his focus to her and sees understanding in her eyes, something he really doesn’t want to see right now. He wants to go back, it’s easier to sit in his happy memories than face the anxious and scared boy in front of him. The boys’ face reflecting Draco’s own emotions back to him.

 Harry’s laughing face dissolves as he turns toward Teddy and wraps an arm around the slender and shaking shoulders.

Merlin, only 30 minutes ago they had been discussing what they were going to make Harry for dinner when he came home and the fact that Teddy wished to call Harry his daddy. Maybe Hermione had some potion to sedate them through all of this that could also wipe their memories clean.

Teddy’s shaking does not stop and Draco tries to pull the boy onto his lap. Teddy immediately stiffens and locks his feet around the rungs of the stool he is sitting on. Draco drops his hands, but ends up putting one arm back around the boys’ shoulders. Pushing down the initial pain of rejection, the fact that Teddy allows Draco’s arm to stay firmly in place is another step in the right direction. The mood changes of a 6 year old are something Draco has no chance of comprehending, the last three months throw that into relief like nothing else could. The blond will take what he can get.

The rest of lunch passes quietly and at its end Ron excuses himself to go back the auror command center set up in Grimmauld’s living room. Hermione starts about tidying up and Teddy jumps up to help her. Draco finishes his soup, and brings his dishes over to Hermione and Teddy as they work at washing up the bowls, pots, and pans made dirty from lunch.

Draco, unsure of what to do with everyone else occupied, catches Hermione’s eye.

“Why don’t you take a book and head to the garden?” she says politely, “Teddy and I have quite a bit to finish up here and then maybe we’ll join you.”

Grateful to her for keeping Teddy occupied and giving him time to decompress, Draco gives a quick kiss to the top of Teddy’s head, which the boy doesn’t try to throw off, and quickly steps into the hallway. He ends up practically running up the stairs for the book sitting on his bedside table.  He tries valiantly to ignore their bed, and Harry’s jeans thrown over the chair in the corner, and his freshly washed set of Auror robes hanging on the wardrobe. The spare set of glasses sitting on Harry’s bedside table, that he had had to purchase after breaking more than one pair in the line of duty, though, twist something deep inside Draco. He grabs his book and escapes the room as fast as possible. This time actually running down the stairs and out into the garden, bathed in sunlight.

The garden is Draco’s domain. It had been such a patchwork of dead and dying plants and hideous lawn furniture when he moved in he couldn’t in good conscience leave it as it was. Never really having a green thumb didn’t mean he didn’t want at least some place to enjoy.

The manor grounds had been a favorite of his as a child. It was a place he could escape, either with his broom or his mother, and forget the demands and expectations loaded onto him. The first few years at Hogwarts he had spent much of his summer holidays exploring the fields of wildflowers left to grow beyond the formal gardens, and swimming in the pond.

Though, as with everything Voldemort touched, the grounds became a dark and dismal place when he had taken up residence at Malfoy Manor. After that Draco never ventured into his beloved garden again. It was one more thing that had been lost when his father had chosen power over love. One more thing Draco had lost in his quest to prove himself to a father he could never live up to.

While small, Grimmauld’s garden had given him a sense of comfort and belonging he didn’t know he was missing. It was glorious in the summer, a refuge from the city when the noise and confusion became too much, and ultimately a sanctuary from the nightmares that still plagued the blond.

Harry hadn’t initially understood how a garden could be that for someone but Draco had wanted it, almost needed it, so Harry had helped him get everything he wanted for it. More than once Harry found Draco standing in the middle of the garden and wrapped in a blanket still shivering from whatever darkness his mind had forced on him while he slept. Harry’s arms brought comfort, and his words reminded him of the love they shared and the power that held over any demons still lingering from his life before and the war they survived.

Pulling himself from his remembrance, Draco settled in the lounger he always chose. It was situated under the trellis filled with creeping ivy and gave the perfect view of the grounds that were part his childhood and part who he was now. Familiar and comfortable as the chair he sat in was the book in his hands. Written by a muggle author that Hermione had introduced him to it was mindless reading by now, he could probably recite the entire book from memory.

After a page Draco put the book down and stared across their garden. Wanting not to think, but having no other option he let his mind wander and he soon let out the tears that he had been holding in for the last 24 hours. Great heaving sobs soon were shaking his body. It all came back to the fact that Harry is Draco’s everything. Harry is the reason Draco is able to get out of bed every morning, he is the reason he’s able to be a part of Teddy’s life. They never speak of it anymore, but Harry has saved Draco’s life more than once.

~*~

_ 5 Years Ago _

The trials following the war had been vicious. There was no way Lucius was going to end up anywhere but Azkaban, it was written on the wall before his trial had even started. That summer there were so many trials to get through most ended up taking less than a day to come to a verdict. The wizarding world just wanted everything over as soon as possible. Funerals were numerous, wizards in hiding were returning in droves, and houses, stores, and parts of entire villages were being rebuilt.

Lucius Malfoy’s fate was decided in less than two days, his trial stuck in the middle of a full docket of other Death Eater trials. No special consideration was given to Voldemort's former right hand, he was thrown away with the trash like the rest of them. Draco had not seen his father since Lucius was drug from the Wizengamot courtroom.

His mother’s trail had lasted twice as long as his fathers and was highlighted on the last day by the appearance and testimony of one Harry Potter.

Draco didn’t know how to feel at the presence of his former school rival. The arrival of a disfigured Harry in his house months before seemed to be a nightmare by the point, the FiendFyre incident a hallucination. In fact for a week straight after seeing him in the courtroom Draco’s nightmares were solely based around the horrors surrounding Potter’s stay at the Manor and the fire that still felt hot enough to burn him.

The Boy Who Lived was ultimately the only thing that saved his mother from Azkaban. Even though she had never taken the Mark, or had an active role in the torture or killing of any wizard or muggle, her guilt by association was enough to sway the members of an exhausted and biased Wizengamot. Her sentence of banishment from the country was terrible. It was made even worse when Draco had been tried and the terms of his probation forced him to stay in England and finish his 8th year at Hogwarts. The thought of separation was unbearable, and Draco had railed at the ministry, his father, Voldemort, Potter, anyone he could find to blame for the predicament he and his mother had found themselves in.

He of course railed against Potter the most, because once again the Boy Wonder had saved Draco from an even worse fate by testifying for the former Slytherin. Potter’s testimony that Draco had lowered his wand during the confrontation with Dumbledore and that Draco had not turned him over to Voldemort at the Manor was ultimately his saving grace. (When Draco learned many years later the exact details of his and Dumbledore’s confrontation at the top of the Astronomy tower he wept, in Harry’s arms, for the two men that had saved more than just his life.)

The time from the trial to his departure for school, and his mother’s to France, was as an unhappy time as Draco could remember. Monetary reparations called for in both his father and his mother’s convictions forced the sale of Malfoy Manor and almost all of the contents contained therein.

Draco was of two minds about the sale of his childhood home. Many happy, or seemingly happy times had been spent there. But so much had been tainted by Voldemort and the war he could never feel the same as he did before for his beloved home and garden. He ached more for his mother than himself. She had put so much time, effort, energy, and ultimately such a large piece of herself into the home, to see her pack what few things she could take with her and leave everything else was heartbreaking.

When it came time to leave for the new school year Draco begged his mother not to accompany him to the station to see him off. He didn’t want his last memory of her for the next 12 months to be one where they were surrounded by the jeering and furious faces of his classmates and their parents.

The _Prophet_ had been running non-stop articles for the week leading up to the start of school decrying the fact that there would be those associated with Death Eater activities sharing the same hallways and classrooms as everyone else. If Draco could only tell them that they could keep their school and their probation and stuff it up their arses, he would. He would much rather leave this island and head to France with his mother, start over in whatever way possible, and forget all about the last seventeen years of his life.

The train station was as painful as he expected, but neither he nor his mother would give anyone the satisfaction of seeing them break. The Malfoy name might not mean a thing anymore, but the bearing they held did. Their masks had been so finely crafted, a station full of angry, disdainful, almost belligerent people were not going to break it now. His heart ached when he kissed his mother’s cheek for the final time, but his countenance showed nothing of it. They had taken everything from him but his ability to survive, and he was going to survive just to prove to everyone he could.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy were the only Slytherin’s in their year to return. If they thought they were going to be able to do anything close to maintaining a low profile, the train to Hogwarts blew that idea instantly apart.

As soon as the train pulled from the station the parade outside of their compartment started. There were those that only wandered by their door numerous times. Others that stood outside the door furiously talking about them like they were caged animals. And finally a few that found the courage to knock and open their door and do anything from threaten to actually try and throw a hex their way. It seemed they saw the entire school during that entire trip, all except for the Golden Trio.

Draco had not seen hide nor hair of Potter since his own trial, and he was fine keeping it that way. He didn’t want to be reminded about all he owed him. Not only did he have his and his mother’s trial to thank him for and the rescue from the FiendFyre, Draco also _really_ didn’t want to think about how to say thank you to Potter for sending his wand to him after the trials.

Draco had been sure he was not going to get his wand back, that the Saviour had given it to the Ministry never to be returned. When it showed up, delivered in a plainly wrapped box by owl, he had been unrelentingly happy, or at least as happy as he could be that summer. After his joy at being reunited with such a major part of him, the questions began. Why had Potter held onto it? Why return it now? Who else knew he had it? Why return it at all? Draco wouldn’t have even been sure it was from Potter unless he hadn’t seen the short note shoved into the box with his wand.

_Though you’d like to have this back._

_-HP_

Draco could show gratitude, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that once again Potter was the person he was going to have to thank. After the enormity of the things Potter had done were added up in Draco’s mind his task seemed insurmountable.

Which is why, when Potter stepped out of the compartment next to him as they pulled into the station and everyone started to disembark, Draco’s stomach turned into a knot. The two briefly made eye contact before Draco turned and walked away as quickly as possible, the feelings of guilt, anger, and insecurity were not new, but they were warring with so much else, he had not the stomach for it all. The unending loneliness of saying goodbye to his mother only hours earlier made everything seem that much bigger. But Draco could survive, he had to survive, Which is why when a tripping jinx hit him as he stepped off the train, he didn’t even react to the bloody nose he received as he face planted into the pavement, or do more than glare at the gaggle of wizards from which the jinx came.

“ _Episkey,”_ and then, “ _Evanesco_ ,”came quietly and subtly from Pansy’s mouth as she aimed her wand at him.

The laughter burned Draco’s cheeks in embarrassment as those around him delighted in the Slytherin Prince’s literal downfall. As Pansy helped him up Draco’s eyes once again found Potter’s, purely by chance, and the blond could not understand the thoughts that seemed to be running behind the green eyes. It wasn’t anger or pity, but looked suspiciously like sympathy. But sympathy for who Draco couldn’t understand, because it certainly wasn’t for him, at least he hoped not. A sympathetic Potter, was almost as bad as a friendly Potter, and he couldn’t have that.

But over the course of the next few weeks, it seemed Draco was going to have to contend with a somewhat less annoying, self-important, and ultimately humbler Saviour. Everyone else saw a much quieter, more subdued Harry. A Harry who, as always, shied away from the spotlight, the attention, and those that wanted a piece of him.

Rumors flew like wildfire around the Trio’s missing year, but none of them spoke of it. They had given their story to the ministry as part of the investigation following the war, and aspects of their account had been used in various Death Eater trials. Harry was the only one to ever appear at any trial, and then it was only Narcissa and Draco Malfoy’s. Minister Shackelbolt’s new administration kept any of the details out of the Prophet or any other wizarding newspaper. It seemed Harry had finally found the anonymity he had craved and seemed to be taking it to its full advantage.

Everyone had changed, how could you not after what they had been through? The 17 returning 8th years the most of all, but even the 6th and 7th years had much to deal with. It made for a much different atmosphere than any they had been used to.

The damaged castle was a daily reminder of the trauma that had been inflicted on all. The seemingly constant nightmares that sent shouts and cries throughout the 8th year dormitory brought many back to a time when fear was all some had known. Everyone was trying to carry on as best as possible, but there were still many instances that sent a shiver around the Great Hall or 8th year common room. The closeness of friends and the familiarity of routine helped, but some wounds take longer to heal.

The entire castle and its inhabitants were more subdued, the excited chatter of the younger levels was at times grating, but none of the older students could deign to scold them for it. In fact the laughter helped, meal times slowly returned to their boisterous affair at least. Seemingly being together made the darkness and fear recede.

This feeling eventually seeped into the rest of the castle. And while not as buoyant as was normal in the past, classrooms, hallways, and eventually the dorms returned to warm and inviting places as people healed and the castle was rebuilt.

Everyone eventually prospered, even the majority of the Slytherin’s that had returned to school. Pansy and Blaise made no waves, trying to blend into the background as much as possible, but both were smart and knew that the connections they formed in this new world were going to be important. They began studying harder, volunteering in class, and not sneering at absolutely everything. It took time, as everything did that year, but they were soon not hexed or jinxed everywhere they went and formed if not friendships, at least acquaintances with other students.

Draco though was a different story. He had started out trying to keep his head down and get through the year. He wouldn’t let anyone see he was just as broken as many of them. The pain and loss he had endured, the fear and constant danger of living with Voldemort had broken him down. To lose his mother on top of it made it a constant struggle to get out of bed in the morning, attend classes, or even eat at meal times. But he did it, day after day, to prove to himself and others that he could.

When the attacks started he ignored and pushed ahead as best he could; but it was soon evident that there were those students who had no intention of letting past grievances go. It had taken a truly brave and utterly idiotic 7th year to hex Draco the first time on the train. When there was no retaliation from the blond besides a blistering glare the flood gates apparently opened. For the first two weeks of school Draco couldn’t walk down the hall, sit in the Great Hall, or be caught anywhere alone without being attacked.

The lecture by McGonagall in the middle of September only made the attackers more creative with where and how they acted.

All attention toward him stopped for a week. The teachers thinking the worst of it was over relaxed in their diligence of watching over him when he left their class. Draco knew better though, he knew those that had been tormenting him were waiting for a new time to strike and the paranoia added to the oppressive feeling he always carried around now.

A week and a half after the Headmistress had spoken to the entire castle about appropriate behavior and what the expectations were of those that attended such a great school Draco found himself locked in a third floor bathroom with five 7th year wizards, one from each house and a second from Ravenclaw just to round out the group. The scornful faces above him snickered as he lay on the floor in the trap of a full body bind. The kicks that had started at his ribs were soon aiming for other parts of his body, one particularly vicious one finally finding and breaking his nose.

The sight of the blond wizard’s blood finally halted the assault. Draco had not reacted, had not had the ability to react because of the body bind, but kept his eyes expressionless none the less. Once they had started in he used a well-worn and useful tactic and drifted off to another place in his mind. He had a powerful mind, Occlumency had helped with that, and he was well-trained in avoiding the physical pain others inflicted as it was happening. Only after, when his mind was finally forced to deal with abuse his body had taken did he truly feel the effects of anything.

So as his attackers filed out, the last one giving one more particularly hard kick to ribs he was sure were already broken, Draco maintained a stone cold expression. Five minutes later the tears streamed unchecked down his face as he took inventory of the battering his body had taken. His nose was most certainly broken, the ribs on his left side were definitely broken and the right were at least badly bruised. Other aches and pains of a lower level were felt almost everywhere. His physical injuries were terrible, the thought that he would lay here covered in his own blood and in this much pain for the remainder of the night, though, sent him into a panic.

It was late. In the last two weeks he had taken to sitting in the library until Madame Pince kicked everyone out so he could avoid his common room, but be someplace visible with a teacher nearby. Madame Pince may not have been the most pleasant company but it was beneficial to avoid scenes such as the current one he found himself in. She shooed everyone out at exactly 11:00pm and he took a different path back to the 8th year dormitories each night hoping to keep those that were trying to find him at bay. It had worked perfectly for 8 days, tonight he had run out of luck.

It now had to be close to 11:30 and no one was going to be coming into one random bathroom out of the dozens that the castle held. He was well and truly stuck until someone needed to use this particular loo on this particular floor.

Once again he drifted from himself and even tried to fall to sleep. Draco was unsure about how long he laid there until he saw the light of a wand shining brightly in his eyes. Trying to focus on the face behind the light he saw a flash of red hair and tensed again. Only one family had that color of intolerable red hair and the man standing above him was someone he didn’t want to face in such a vulnerable state.

Another flash of light flew from the end of the wand about him, shaping into some type of dog and running through the wall behind him.

“ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” fell harshly from Weasley’s mouth. Draco first response was to moan, pitifully and painfully.

“Don’t move right now. I called for Madame Pomfrey, she should be here in a minute.” Weasley said, not quite looking Draco in the face, but not sounding as harsh as he had a minute ago.

Now that he had full mobility the pain surged through Draco’s body. Every breath hurt, a slight turn of his head caused pain to shoot through his head and neck. A cough over the blood still trickling down his throat from his ruined noise caused unimaginable agony through his broken ribs. Closing his eyes and laying as still as possible seemed the only thing that kept the pain to a throbbing ache instead of the sharp daggers he felt when trying any type of movement.

Draco silently wished to Merlin that Madame Pomfrey would show up soon, not only for the pain relief and care she could provide, but to remove himself from the vulnerable spot he laid in at the feet of the Gryffindor Prefect.

It was like Weasley had known Draco was thinking about the precarious spot they were as at that exact moment the Gryffindor took a step back and knelt down next to the Slytherin.

“Who did this to you?” Weasley asked with a command in his voice Draco didn’t know was possible. Apparently he had changed more than Draco had realized. The blond almost wanted to answer him, but the thought of taking in a breath large enough to speak quelled that ambition quickly. Draco did minutely shake his head, for some unknown reason he didn’t want Weasley to think he was ignoring him.

Squeaking shoes clipping along at a good pace broke the near silence that hung over the bathroom and hallway just outside. Moments later Madam Pomfrey burst through the door with the headmistress right behind her.

“Move Mr. Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey cried as she unceremoniously shoved him out of the way.

Draco’s not sure what happened next, there was more pain, then relief, then jostling which caused more pain. He was close to the edge of consciousness, then finally something Madam Pomfrey poured down his throat fully took him over that edge into the blackness.

The next thing Draco remembers is being brought out of a deep sleep by severe burning in his ribs. He gasped as the burning seem to spread as he became more aware of his surroundings. He could instantly recognize the large windows and soaring ceiling of the hospital wing. The smell would have been recognizable as well if his nose didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cotton to the point of pain, leaving him unable to smell and only able to breathe through his mouth. He felt retched, amid the burning of his healing ribs, the inability to breathe through his throbbing nose, and the aches and pains that assaulted various other parts of his body where the kicks of his attackers had landed he was as physically miserable as he might have ever been. Add the fear of being attacked, the lack of protection anyone could afford him, and the feeling of total loneliness that enveloped him and Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to fall back asleep because the nightmares would always come; but staying awake meant the pain of healing would linger for longer.

Being asleep was apparently the state his mind wished to be in and Draco drifted off once again.

The morning brought bright sunlight through the large windows and woke Draco out of a thankfully dreamless sleep. The first he had in quite some time and he couldn’t help but wonder if Madam Promfrey had helped with that in one of the potions she had forced down his throat.

He spent another night in the hospital wing before being released and sent straight to the Headmistresses office. McGonagall was apoplectic when Draco refused to give the names of his attackers. He was all for self-preservation, he was Slytherin after all, and the smartest course was to once again keep his head down and get through the year just as he had planned before  even setting foot on the castle grounds. His snitching would only make it worse and at some point give need to defend himself.

His probation had made it clear that one toe out of line from him and he would be in even deeper trouble. Not wanting to chance that or concern his mother with reports of this incident, and honestly hoping to forget it all together, he refused again and again to go into any detail about what happened.

Finally free of the of the Headmistresses office with an exasperated dismissal by the woman in charge he fled as quickly as possible to the 8th year dorm, to the small comfort of his bed, and hopefully a few hours of much needed rest.

He had not been given any Dreamless Sleep potion the second night in the infirmary. Hour after hour had passed as Draco forced himself to stay awake, not wanting to fall into the dreams that so often chased him while he tried to find rest. To admit to the terror that found him at night to the Matron was not something he wanted to deal with.

By the time he showed up to breakfast the next morning with Blaise and Pansy and sat down with the rest of the 8th years at their own table the entire school knew what had happened to Draco. It shouldn’t have felt any different, he had been such a source of gossip over the last few years that he should be completely used to the stares and whispers that accompanied his walk through the Great Hall. The difference though was that this was gossip about something that made him so vulnerable he could hardly handle it. Everyone knew he had been attacked and beaten, that he hadn’t been able to defend himself, and that for all his former pureblood bravado and supposed status he was more helpless than any other student here.

To the credit of McGonagall and the other teachers in the castle Draco was never physically attacked again. Some adult, even if it was Filch, seemed to always be around as Draco moved throughout the castle. It took a while for Draco to realize what was going on. His eyes so defiantly focused ahead of him at all times before, were now just as defiant in staring at the floor when he moved from class to class or to breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He hadn’t returned to the library since the night he was beaten up. Nights now were spent shut in his dorm room, on his bed, with his curtains drawn and silencing and repealing charms set up.

And while no one hexed him outright, or fell into the trap of physically attacking him the abuse continued, this time as whispers, taunts, and mental abuse.

The whispers as he passed were nothing new.

_“Filthy Death Eater”_

_“Should be in Azkaban with his father”_

_“Deserves a little Kiss from a Dementor”_

_“Murderer”_

They all hurt, especially the last one, but he had read it about himself all summer long and had heard very similar things while standing in a courtroom with many witnesses. 

The shouts through the hallways and in the Great Hall were no more original but now everyone heard, and usually sneered or laughed, at the pronouncement.

Then the owls started appearing, sometimes with hand written notes, but usually with Howlers that screamed obscenities at him across the Great Hall. Two days before Halloween saw Draco nerves finally snap. The constant barrage of shouts, insults, Howlers, laughter, and degradation finally caught up with him at dinner.

He had tried so hard to maintain the quiet calm he had learned from his mother. To hold onto the mask of indifference and isolation. But day after day for weeks he had been shouted at, ridiculed, and told he was dirt. At dinner on 29th October someone finally brought up his Mark. It was surprising it had taken that long for someone to mention it. He tried to keep it covered at all times, even in Potions when almost everyone else had rolled sleeves and loosened ties. Draco had hoped that out of sight meant out of mind for his classmates. He was not so lucky.

The Howler arrived like all the others, in the beak of a non-descript barn owl. What came out of it though brought to the forefront that fact they this was a school full of crude, ill-mannered, and ultimately vengeful teenagers.

“HEY MALFOY! I HEAR YOU WANK WITH YOUR LEFT HAND SO THAT YOU CAN PRETEND OLD VOLDY’S SCREWING YOU LIKE HE USED TO. BET YOU’RE STILL PISSED THAT POTTER KILLED THE ONLY THING THAT WOULD EVER TOUCH YOU!”

Silence followed the sentence, and Draco felt like his heart had stopped. Long moments passed until both the students in the Hall and his heart started back up at the exact same time. The laughter, jeers, and outright glee at such a mortifying statement directed at a seemingly universally hated person make the noise in the Hall unbearable.

Draco, finally realizing he couldn’t fight it anymore, fled as fast as his feet would take him. Indiscernible shouts followed him out the door and up the stairs. He ran blindly up and up until he running out of stairs and finding himself in the astronomy tower and Merlin help him if that isn’t the exact last place he wanted to be.

Spinning on his heel he ran again, this time to the very depths of the castle, until he’s standing in front of a familiar door. A door that only months ago would have led him to a place that had felt like home, so much more than the Manor had these past few years. But he wasn’t welcome there either, he didn’t know the password, didn’t have a room to go to and the students, well they would have turned him out before he would have even been able to take step across the threshold.

Fleeing again seemed the best idea, but he had nowhere to go. Nowhere could he hide from the shame, guilt, and misery he felt. His life wasn’t even a shadow of what he had expected it to be when he had come to this castle as a prideful and selfish 11 year old.

He hadn’t expected it to be like this, even when he finally realized the mistake he had made in following his father. He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be allowed to start over. Never before had he thought if he kept his head down, didn’t act out, and didn’t make waves that he wouldn’t be able to get through this year with a minimum of attention. To say that he was naïve was the understand of his life, and a word Draco never thought he would heard said about himself, let alone from his own mind. But it was true, and that thought brought tears pricking behind his eyes and raised a lump in his throat that had developed there in the wake of his self-pity.

Having nowhere else to go, he quietly and cautiously began making his way back to the 8th year dormitory. Somehow luck, which usually abandoned him, was on his side and he didn’t run into a single soul as he made his way through unused and dusty back corridors to reach the unremarkable door that marked the entrance and his hoped salvation.

But just as quickly though his luck ran out. Who but the Saviour himself was coming out of the door as Draco began speaking the password. They locked eyes for just a moment, before Draco once again dropped his gaze to the floor, catching sight of Potter’s hideous shoes, and in a moment of complete madness, thought about the fact that they were called trainers.

He silently hoped Potter hadn’t been able to catch the redness that rimmed his eyes from the tears he had shed on his way through the castle, or the wetness that still spoke of more to come.

“Malfoy, I-“

“Save it Potter, I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

He waited for the dark haired boy, no not boy anymore, man he amended, to move out of the way so that he could continue on his way.

“I was only going to say I’m sorry for what happened at dinner.”

Draco raised his eyes slightly, enough to catch the look on Potter’s face, expecting to see a smugness there that spoke of the sarcasm Draco had imagined in the apology. But instead he found nothing but a calm and open expression behind the black rimmed glasses. It caught the blond off balance and he quickly dropped his eyes, once again focusing on the trainers sticking out beneath Potter’s robes.

Trying to hang on for all his worth, Draco summoned up as much of his old snark and bite he could and put on his best sneer, “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, Scarhead.”

“I didn’t say I felt sorry for you Malfoy, I said I was _sorry_ that you received that Howler.”

“Just that one huh? None of the others? You finally feel _sorry_ when somehow you’re involved.”

“No, of course I-“

“Because I wasn’t aware that anything that happened outside your perfect little bubble was worth your notice. But once your name gets somehow thrown in with a dirty Death Eater like myself you’re suddenly _sorry_.”

“Malfoy, I was just trying to-“

But by now Draco had built up such a good head of steam, he was finally letting lose all of the anger and frustration he had been holding in since the start of the term, hell since the start of the War in general that nothing was going to interrupt or stop him now.

“Fuck you Potter! Fuck you for thinking I need your apology or your pity or anything else from you. Haven’t you heard what everyone has been saying for months now? I’m a filthy, murdering Death Eater, not worth the dirt on anyone’s shoes, especially yours. I shouldn’t be allowed in the castle, right? I should be locked away in Azkaban with my father is that it? I mean I watched Professor Burbage be murdered right in front of me, did you know that?”

That thought brought more anguish and shame but Draco had nowhere else to go but down.

“Did you know I terrorized Longbottom and the others all last year?” he continued. “I spent the entire first term turning everyone I could in to the Carrows, thinking nothing of the punishment they handed out to your precious friends.”

Pausing for a breath Potter tries to interrupt yet again but Draco charges ahead not wanting to hear what the Saviour thinks would be smart to say right now.

“Did you know I let him brand me without any forethought? Thought it was such an honor to be brought into the fold, made one of the team as it were. Only I couldn’t even do that right. I was only _honored_ with a Mark because I was meant to be an example, a punishment to my father for disobeying. It’s on me forever, a reminder of the failure I am and always will be. So what do you have to say to that?”

Draco stopped, realizing he had gone too far, admitted too much. He couldn’t believe he had just acknowledged all of that to Potter, let alone the failure bit. Deciding he’d been there long enough Draco began to push past the dark haired man only to be stopped by the sound of Potter’s low, quiet voice.

“Thank you for not telling your Aunt it was me at the Manor. I could tell you knew. I could tell you recognized me, especially when Hermione and Ron were right there. I’ve not had a chance to thank you for staying quiet when it would have been so easy to tell Bellatrix it was me.”

Draco freezes dead in his tracks as Potter speaks, finally looking up when he finishes and catching a glimpse of green eyes before Potter moves off and leaves Draco standing in the doorway speechless and unnerved.

Something like relief flared in Draco’s chest for a moment. Someone thought he had done something right, something worthwhile. It didn’t matter for a moment that he was a convicted Death Eater, that he was Marked, that his father had completely ruined the family name and they had lost everything.

A minute later though, he was left just as hollow if not more so. The brief flare of hope made everything else feel so much worse. That brief respite made the pain, bitterness, and loneliness feel like they were crashing down on him tenfold, and he hated Potter even more than he did 10 minutes ago.

It was nothing compared to how much he hated himself though.

That anger and disgust with himself continued to build over the next two days. It had always been there, a part of him he had desperately tried to ignore and cover up with his well-developed mask. But now it was like a living, breathing parasite gnawing away at his resolve, his indifference, at any chance he had of ever being happy again. And it focused completely on the Mark, black and ugly on his arm.

Draco skipped his classes on Friday, successfully avoiding all his classmates and teachers.

It was fortunate that Halloween fell on a Saturday, which was also a Hogsmeade weekend. The dorm he had been holed up in for the last day was thankfully quiet and empty; and with the curtains drawn around his bed he could continue to pretend that the outside world didn’t exist. He could continue to wallow in his own grief and depression without having any outside interference. Blaise had tried to get Draco to class on Friday and to Hogsmeade on Saturday with him and Pansy, but Draco’s silence had been the only answer he received.

When his classmates returned from Hogsmeade and began getting ready for the feast Draco had been asleep. Not putting up his normal silencing spells because of the empty room earlier in the day, he was awoken by the shouts and laughter coming from the other boys in his room.

Sharing with Finnegan, Thomas, Fletchley, and Goldstein had not been as bad as he had first thought. They seemed to get along and ignore Draco which was what he hoped for the most. All of the 8th years in fact had ignored him, they at least were never a part of the mob that taunted and degraded him. They had all been through too much to not understand the need for some peace and quiet. Although they were anything but as they came barreling into the room.

Draco had been reaching for his wand to put up the silencing spells and drift back into whatever sleep he could find, when an unexpected voice called from the doorway.

“Anyone seen Malfoy?” came Weasley’s voice from the doorway. He heard the negative confirmations from the rest of the boys.

Thomas spoke up then, “No we assumed he’s in there,” probably pointing to Draco’s bed before going on, “why? Do you need something?”

It was humiliating for Draco to lay there and be talked about like he was invisible. But he supposed he essentially was since his curtains were still drawn and he had just cast a one way silencing spell so that he could hear them, but they couldn’t hear him.

“Yeah, McGonagall gave me a letter to pass along to him.” Weasley continued.

Finnegan piped up then, “Why couldn’t he get the letter himself from whatever owl delivered it?”

Weasley paused then, like he was trying to figure out whether to continue or let things lie. “You sure you haven’t seen him? He’s not in there right now?”

“Can’t be sure mate, you could check though. He puts up tons of silencing spells every time he’s here, we’ve stopped trying to get his attention when he does that.” Comes Thomas’ voice again.

Draco think about letting them know he’s here, that he heard their entire conversation. But after everything, after all the shite and humiliation Draco is too much of a coward to let them know he’s there. So he stays silent, hoping his silencing spells and the charms to keep the curtains in place will stick.

“It’s a letter from Azkaban. Probably about his father, but I don’t know for sure.”

Draco froze, his mind going blank, stuck between the need to know what that letter said and the self-preservation of absolutely _not_ wanting to know what it said. He must have stayed that way for some time because the next part of the conversation he heard didn’t make much sense and is accompanied by shouts and laughter. The door finally closed a minute later with a determined bang.

Releasing a long held breath from burning lungs Draco cautiously cracked open the curtain and his eyes zeroed in on the yellowed and dirty envelope sitting on his bedside table. Looking around to assure no one is left in the room, he quickly grabbed the letter and shut the curtain putting up his locking and silencing spells again, this time a two way one so he can’t hear what’s going on around him.

It had been 3½ months since Draco sat in the courtroom and watched his father be taken away. 3½ months since Draco had seen his father’s face sickly pale, but with his aristocratic nose held firmly in the air. It had been 3½ months since Draco had pretended it wasn’t the most painful thing to watch his father be carried away knowing he was still and would always be a disappointment to the man he had tried to live up to his entire life.

And now he held a letter in his hand with the first news about the man who still wreaked havoc on his life. It was a thick envelope, speaking of many pages, but what they were filled with Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It felt as if everything had been leading up to this. The taunts, the attacks, the beating he took at others hands all lead up to this letter in his hand. It was a reminder, as much as everything else that he was not and would never be free from what his father had done, and what Draco had tried to prove.

That fucking mark on his arm was no greater example of the stupidity, shame, humiliation, and ultimate devastation of the decisions he himself had made.

And all of a sudden all Draco wanted was to be free of the ugly blackness crawling on his arm. He wanted it gone, to not be a part of him, to not remind him of the stupid, stupid boy he had been. It was a shame he felt to the very depths of his heart and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

Pulling out his wand he had no idea what to do only that the quickly flickering thoughts and images of some of his most humiliating and shameful decisions and incidences crowded so much of what saw and felt that the curse coming out of his mouth was almost completely past his lips before he realized he had spoken.

 _“Sectumsempra”_ it was quiet, without the normal force and anger usually spoken behind such a curse but the pain, and blood, were immediate.

Also immediate was Draco’s regret. The Mark now had a deep, deep slash running through it, but it hadn’t disappeared at all. The only thing hiding it now was Draco’s blood as it ran out of his body as if he was an enemy it needed to escape from as fast as possible. His moment of madness left him weak, bloodied, and crawling from his bed in a heap of pain and dejection.

The darkness starting to surround him was unnatural and he realized after a moment that the black spots forming in front of his eyes, and the fuzziness making his thoughts slow and muted was from the blood continually pouring out of his arm.

With the spells broken around him as he fell out of his bed he tried to cry out. Nothing but a weak moan and a mumbled word or two fell from his mouth. It wasn’t enough, it wouldn’t be enough to get anyone’s attention and a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered if that wasn’t for the best. It sounded suspiciously like the amalgamation of his father and fellow students that quietly whispered how much easier it would be to just fall asleep right now. Forget everything else, and just rest for a while. It would all be easier to deal with if he fell asleep.

But whatever madness had moved Draco’s hand before now left in a blaze of pure self-preservation that saw Draco crawling for the door, fighting against every nerve in his body that screamed at him to just give up.

But he couldn’t give up.

Never during the war, once he realized the lengths to which he had been wrong to follow his father, did he give in to the anger, humiliation, and shame he felt. Even in those months spent in the Manor with Voldemort he held on. With nothing to hope for but to survive through whatever was to come his way, he never gave up, never gave in, never thought that the murdering and torture were alright. He couldn’t stomach it, and at the time there had been shame associated with that. His father, embarrassed and disgusted with having a son who couldn’t revel in the destruction of others, admonished him ruthlessly. Maybe, Draco though aimlessly, there was something to be proud of in that, but nothing surrounding his time during the war brought one ounce of pride or even slight satisfaction.

These thoughts, while many, ran quickly through Draco’s head as he lay on the floor of his dormitory bleeding and wounded beyond anything he had experienced since sixth year. He had to keep trying and that brought his hand toward the door knob, but the loss of his life blood and the cursed wound ripped open in his other arm meant he was too weak to turn the handle when he tried.

In the next instant though he registered footsteps, whether they were coming or going he couldn’t tell. But someone was close by and with every ounce he had left he managed, in a voice just above a whisper, to ask for _help_. Please dear Merlin would someone just help him.

The footsteps stuttered and from the sudden absence of noise he could tell whoever it was had in fact been walking away from Draco’s door, probably to the common room and then down to the Great Hall for the Feast. He could have missed this person by mere moments and been completely and totally alone for hours, Draco tried not to think of the missed moment, but put the last effort he could into once again calling for help.

Relief flooded him as the footsteps hesitantly made their way back toward the door. Seconds later a cautious knock came only an instant before the door opened, whoever it was didn’t believe in waiting for permission to enter a room that clearly wasn’t their own.

Draco had never been more thankful for bad manners in his life.

**~~~**

Green eyes behind black rimmed glasses took in the sight in front of him…and churned his stomach. The blood, seemingly spread everywhere by Malfoy’s laborious journey across his room, covered the blond laying at his feet as well. The curtains, which Malfoy had not even realized had been half-ripped from their hangings, were trailed out into the room. It took Harry all of a second to understand something was seriously wrong and another to crouch down in front of Malfoy sending a familiar blue light out of his wand before reaching for the man laying prone on the floor.

“Malfoy? Malfoy what happened?”

Malfoy locked eyes with Harry for a moment but couldn’t form any words. The knowledge that someone was there to help him, seemed to finally let the last thread to his consciousness snap. The blackness was a welcome relief to his torn body and battered mind.

But Harry continued to shout above him, calling his name, asking what happened, and generally acting like he had completely forgotten he had magic after just sending out a powerful Patronus to the Matron and Headmistress moments before.

Finally remembering he could actually do something to help, Harry called for the dittany that was sitting in his trunk in the room next door. A hold over from the previous year, he now often felt like he was missing his right hand without many of the contents of Hermione’s small beaded bag close by.

As the small brown bottle flew into his hand Harry searched desperately for the source of the blood that covered much of Malfoy’s upper body. Finally realizing his left arm was drenched the worst Harry went to rip open the sleeve only to discover a long gash in the material. Tearing it wider Harry was still unable to tell what he was even looking at because of the amount of blood gathered there. If it hadn’t been for the last year, Harry wouldn’t have been even able to look at this without passing out, but time and experience had steeled his resolve.

Hoping it wouldn’t matter that he could not see, Harry frantically began dropping dittany on parts of Malfoy’s arm. After a frustrating thirty seconds, which actually felt like an hour, Harry was no closer to solving the problem of getting Malfoy’s blood to stop flowing over his arm and onto the ground. He desperately wanted to dump the entire bottle of his arm just to see if it would help. Malfoy’s face had turned white, such an unnatural white that Harry had only seen in one other face and the paleness that has spread there made the tears of frustration rolling down Harry’s face fall even harder.

“I swear to fucking Merlin Malfoy if you die like this-“

Harry’s oath was cut off by the sounds of running feet and shouts. Bursting into the hallway outside but unable to enter the room because of how Harry and Malfoy were situated no less than four teachers and four more students were there to discover the grim and bloody scene.

Harry, so focused on trying to fix the man in front of him, missed Madam Pomfrey’s mandate to move. He didn’t hear Pansy’s shriek or Ron’s whispered four letter oath. He missed the commotion of shuffling as Professor Slughorn and Professor Sprout shooed the other students out of the way. It wasn’t until he was physically shoved aside, by a surprisingly strong Pomfrey, that he realized he had been so fixated on saving the wrecked and bloodied form at his feet he had completely missed much the chaos around him.

McGonagall’s voice was the first to register, “Potter, what happened?”

Strengthened by age and experience Harry was able to answer in a voice that sounded as close to normal as it could, “I don’t know Headmistress. I was leaving for the feast and heard something from the other boy’s room. When I knocked no one answered so I opened the door. Malfoy was just lying there covered in blood. He lost consciousness almost as soon as I got here.”

“Is that when you cast your Patronus to get us?” Madam Pomfrey asked shortly. She continued focusing on the casting of a complicated looking healing spell.

“Yes.” Harry answered, but he wasn’t sure anyone actually heard him. All eyes were focused on the patient and the frantically working Healer.

“And he gave no indication how long ago this happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked rising to her feet.

“I…no, as I said he was basically unconscious when I got here. Is he going to be alright?” Harry answered her with a question of his own. There was a desperation he felt he couldn’t quite figure out. It had to do with the shock of everything yes, but it also had to do with disbelief. How could something like this happen? After the war, after the restoration, after Harry saved his arse this happens now?

Madam Pomfrey and Headmistress McGonagall now had Malfoy under a _Locomotor s_ pell as well as a disillusionment charm, to hide the worst of Malfoy’s appearance, and were rapidly moving him down the hallway. Harry tried to follow and he heard Rom and Hermione close behind as well. The common room was full of every 8th year and all were quiet as the four teachers and the Golden Trio plus Blaise and Pansy streamed out the door.

The procession moved rapidly through the hallways toward the hospital wing. At the doors Madam Pomfrey blocked the students’ access and disappeared behind the door with Professor’s Sprout and Slughorn and the Headmistress.

All the five of them could do now was wait. Harry wasn’t even sure why he had slid down the wall to sit and hadn’t just turned around and returned to his dorm, or why Hermione and Ron had decided to join him. Pansy and Blaise huddled together on the other side of the hallway and no one spoke for a long time.

It was easier in the silence to imagine the horrible things that could be happening on the other side of the door they had gathered around. It was not difficult to imagine that the loss of blood had been too great, the cut to deep, the curse too strong to heal. And Harry didn’t know why that thought affected him so deeply. Maybe it was the fact that so many had lost their lives, or that Harry had been able to save Malfoy before, or that any death at this point seemed like such a waste after the last year.

“Harry,” Hermione finally broke the silence, “lets go back to the common room. There’s nothing we can do here, and we should get you cleaned up.”

Harry looked down and saw that he was covered in Draco’s blood. How had he not realized that before?

“He lost a lot of blood.” was Harry’s only response, but it brought a small sound out of Pansy as she sat with Blaise across from them. Harry looked at her, catching her eye and stayed staring at her as she looked over his shirt drenched with Draco’s blood.

She finally looked back at his face, but not quite into his eyes, before speaking, “Was he really unconscious when you found him?”

Harry nodded in the affirmative, before she went on.

“And no one else was in the room with him?”

Harry frowned at that, lost for a moment in thought.

“No,” he finally said, “it was just him.”

“And you didn’t see anyone else in the hallway or common room before you found him?” She continued.

“Pansy-“ Blaise tried to interject, but was broken off by Harry answering her question.

“No, I didn’t see anyone else there. There was no one but Malfoy in his room or in the common room, or anywhere in the dorm. Everyone was down at the feast.”

“So why were you still in the dorm, and not, as you said, with everyone down at the feast?” There was accusation in her tone, but more born out of desperation Harry realized, than true malice.

And in that moment Harry realized why she was asking. Why she was grasping at anything she could to not have to imagine Malfoy sitting alone in his room, harming himself in this way. It’s exactly what he himself would do if either of the people sitting next to him had done something like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said as his eyes shifted between looking at Malfoy’s two best friends, “maybe if I had done more to stop everyone’s-“

“Save it Potter,” Pansy spat back at him, Blaise only sighed and dropped his gaze to his lap as she began her rant, “you think you could have stopped anyone from treating him how they have? That everyone would just fall at your feet and take the Saviour’s word for it that Draco didn’t deserve this?”

She paused to take a breath, and all Harry wanted to do was drop his gaze, but the anger she flared at him felt right. He had been so presumptuous to think that anyone would have listened to a word he said, so he held her gaze and let the shame wash over him.

“No one could have stopped the attacks, not even the teachers, so stop being such a damn martyr and let me say thank you for finding him and trying to take care of him.” she finally finished.

The look of complete and total confusion on the three faces that met the end of her speech may have been comical in a better situation. Ron’s mouth gaped open like he had been struck in the head with a bludger, Hermione fared somewhat better but her eyebrows had disappeared into her fringe, and Harry stared blankly as if he did not understand that English language.

“What?” Harry finally managed to ask.

Pansy let out a sigh like she was dealing with explaining why the sun rises and sets to a two year old.

“We knew that it was going to be hell to come back here and finish this year for the three of us. Blaise and I weren’t going to come back, but when Draco was told he had to as part of his probation we wanted to support him. He initially fought us on it, but gave in finally.

“And it was hell, the first month was terrible, but then something happened. Even though all of us were trying so hard to make amends, keep our heads down and be prefect students, the school gave us a pass, but not Draco. It was like the harder he tried to ignore the taunts, the anger, and the verbal and physical attacks the angrier everyone got.”

She paused to shake her head and steady herself to continue, something Harry thought he had never see her do before. Blaise wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she continued.

“We were wrong, we know that. We were all wrong to believe everything our parents had stuffed down our throats for years. I guess it takes a war and the death of so many people, including friends and family and those innocent of any wrongdoing, to realize how naïve and blind you’ve been your whole life.”

Her voice had trailed off to a whisper by the end, but she stared with such intensity into Harry’s eyes and as she spoke her next sentence he felt the power 

behind them even from across the hallway.

“I’m sorry for trying to turn you into Vol-Voldemort.” She stumbled briefly over his name but sentiment behind her words held firm.

Silence descended on the hallway once again as no one seemed to know how to respond to the direction the conversation had taken. All were lost in their own thoughts until…

“Well, fuck.” Ron’s voice still sounded indistinct but his words broke the tension and sighs of relief were joined with quiet chortles and smirks.

“Thank you, Pansy,” Harry was finally able say after unsticking his tongue, “that means a lot.”

Pansy only nodded her head and then looked away from the Golden Trio as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment over such an un-Slytherin like sentiment.

Everyone was saved from the embarrassment of having to break the unsettled truce that had fallen around them when McGonagall stepped out of the hospital wing.

She spoke before anyone else could, “He’s going to be fine, physically,” she emphasized the last word and paused before continuing, “but he’s going to need quiet and rest for the next few days. And before you ask he cannot have any visitors for at least the next day or so. Ms. Parkinson and Mr. Zabini I will let you know when you may visit.”

Harry thought about speaking up then to ask if he could know that as well, but left that thought hanging when he had no good reason to want to visit Malfoy in the hospital.

“No one knows besides you five what happened in that room,” the Headmistress had gone on while Harry had been distracted, “and I assume I can trust all of you to not speak of this to anyone. Should you be asked where Mr. Malfoy is please let anyone interested know they can come directly to me should they be so inclined to know what is going on.” The fierceness in her voice made no mistake in the type of response they would get from her should someone be so idiotic as to inquire.

With nods all around the five 8th years turned to go back to their dorm and finally go to bed after such a long night when the Headmistress called for Harry to hang back.

“Mr. Potter, I need to know if there is anything else you can remember before or when you found Mr. Malfoy. Anything at all that you’ve left out.”

Harry wracked his brain for a second before coming up empty, “No, Headmistress, I told you everything. I heard a noise, and opened the door to find Malfoy laying there. After sending you and Madam Pomfrey my Patronus I tried to heal what I could, but there was so much blood I’m not sure I did any good.”

McGonagall nodded at the repetition of his earlier story, but surprised Harry in the next moment by asking him to return to the hospital wing the next morning after breakfast.

“Why?” Harry blurted out.

McGonagall gave him a stern look and he almost apologized but held his ground.

“Because, Mr. Malfoy asked to see you multiple times after he came around. Madam Pomfrey had to put him back under with a sleeping draught to add in his healing, and we felt it would be best that he get a good night sleep before bringing in any visitors.”

“He asked for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter. That is why I was wondering if there was anything else that happened. Something that you had held back or perhaps had not wanted to say in front of everyone else.”

Harry returned her searching gaze with an equally probing one of his own. Not sure what she had meant by that he chose to ignore the inquiry altogether and waited for her to continue.

“Alright Potter, off to bed then. I’ll see you back here after breakfast in the morning.”

The night was restless and Harry only dozed on and off for a few hours before giving up altogether.

Dawn saw Harry showered, dressed and ready for breakfast. Still unsure of why this mattered so much, the sleepless night did nothing to help the fuzziness in his brain.

With no hope of having anyone else be awake at such a time on the weekend, Harry walked himself to the Great Hall. The coffee, a habit he had picked up over the last few months, helped clear some of the cobwebs, but the food only added to the sinking feeling in his stomach. Unable to wait much longer he glanced at the head table and was sure that McGonagall had been looking at him only moments before, even though she now was involved in what looked like quite an intense discussion with Professor Sprout.

Rising he made his way to the hospital wing as if on instinct, maybe having spent so much time there it felt natural to him. Harry was surprised to find the Headmistress had beaten him there somehow, but chose to ignore that fact for the larger issue looming in front of him.

“Potter, you’re up surprisingly early this morning,” she said as a welcome, “I had presumed I would be waiting at least another hour for you to make an appearance.”

There was questioning in her voice, she was searching for why.

Harry nodded but couldn’t really explain it to her any better than he could himself, so he remained silent. He couldn’t wrap his head around why he had a sleepless night, why he hadn’t really tasted the food he had just eaten, or why he hadn’t told Ron and Hermione he was coming here this morning when they had asked why McGonagall had asked him to stay behind last night.

He had been through a war, seen destruction, even death as young as 4th year, but the sight of Draco Malfoy laying in a pool of his own blood had affected him as nothing had since the end of the War.

It wasn’t until they had entered the hospital wing and been escorted to Malfoy’s small curtained off bed that he was hit with it. And the shame and guilt that surged through his body was enough to make his meager breakfast try and make a reappearance.

Flashes of a younger Malfoy, laying bleeding and unconscious, ran through Harry’s mind as Draco turned to look at him. The shame of that incident, the way he treated Malfoy afterward, and the lack of compassion shown at the time seemed normal, right, and justified. Now though that felt false. Even with the events leading up to their duel and everything that happened after in clear relief Harry was not vengeful enough to wish that kind of harm or damage on someone else.

Not especially after what he and everyone else had been through in the last year and a half.

“I’m sorry,” slipped out of Harry’s mouth before anything else could.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but there was surprise and something else that Harry didn’t want to identify behind the normally pinched look. It looked like hurt and that confused Harry for a long moment.

“Sorry for helping me, or sorry for even finding me?” Draco snapped but with a weariness behind it that betrayed the venom he was trying to spit at Harry.

“What?” Harry asked dumbfounded. And then like a candle flickering to life the he understood why Malfoy had looked hurt at his apology. “Oh shit, no that’s…that’s not what I meant.”

“So you’re not sorry for being hailed as a Saviour once again?”

“What?” Harry asks for the second time in a few short seconds.

Malfoy sighed at that and began speaking very slowly, as if inserting sarcasm and snipe into his speech will make it easier to get out what he has to say, “Since I was not raised by wolves I wanted to say thank you for finding me and sending for help.”

With that Malfoy turned over and faced his back to Harry, as if the conversation was over and there was nothing else left to say.

“That’s it?” Was Harry’s only response.

“Yes Potter, that’s it.” Malfoy replied without turning around.

The realization that Harry was expecting more from Malfoy merged with the thought that he himself had more to say. And since Malfoy was almost literally a captive audience Harry was going to say what he needed to. It may have been selfish to inflict this onto an unsuspecting injured person, but Harry had had enough with secrets, lies, anger, and betrayal not to get this out.

“No, that’s not it Malfoy, it’s not it by a long shot.” Harry retorted.

Draco did nothing to indicate he had even heard Harry speak, but the dark haired man was not going to stop until he made Malfoy understand exactly what he was sorry for.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy, for what I did to you during 6th year. I never said that, even when all that shit was going on I still never apologized. I was too…too hung up on everything else that was going on. I was so blinded by the thought that I was right and you were completely wrong. I lost sight of simply being a human being instead of this person who had some higher purpose. All I saw was who was right and who was wrong. There’s a lot more grey in the world, isn’t there?”

**~~~**

Draco still hadn’t turned over, he listened closely to Potter, but had no idea what to even make of such a statement. Once again it felt like everything had been leading up to this point. The strife, the anger, the taunts, that damn letter from Azkaban, even those many months ago when the fucking Mark was put on his arm all had brought him to this point.  And once again he was on the edge of a precipice, one step and he would either fall or bring himself back to safety.

But what was safety for Draco? Hadn’t last night alone proven that he had no idea what was safe? Hadn’t the decisions he made over the last year been exactly the wrong ones? He knew that, had spoken about it with Pansy and Blaise. So what was stopping him now from moving ever forward?

And was Potter offering him anything close to that safety or was it only going to make things ten times worse if he accepted this apology. Sometimes it seemed all Draco had to go on was his anger and bitterness, the wrongs that had been done to him flickered through his mind and kept him moving forward out of sheer stubbornness to survive.

 _But surviving really isn’t living, is it?_ The question came from the back of Draco’s mind, but sounded suspiciously like his mother’s voice.

It wasn’t. At least not anymore. The War, his conviction, and the separation from his mother had just about broken him, but it hadn’t completely. He was still alive, surviving, still hanging on and for the first time he saw his future as it could be. No Voldemort, no father to disappoint, no family name to live up to. Just him, just Draco.

“You saved my life…again.” Draco spoke the truth. And it was the most honest he had been with himself or anyone else is over a year. He still didn’t turn around, not sure he wanted to see Potter’s response, but at least he hadn’t left while Draco was having his existential crisis, and was still there to hear Draco’s admission.

“Yeah, I…yeah.” Came Potter’s inarticulate response. The lack of anything but confusion and quiet acceptance in Potter’s voice made Draco turn over to look at the man sitting in the chair next to his bed. Potter had his hands in his lap and was staring down at them with a faint flush on his cheeks. The response was not what Draco expected…at all.

“I guess that means that I should be saying thank you yet again.” Draco said trying to keep any emotion from his voice.

“Can I just say ‘you’re welcome’ and we leave it at that?” Potter sounded tired and as Draco took a quick look at the dark haired man he noticed dark circles under his eyes and a paleness to his skin that was not normally there.

“Merlin, you look like shite Potter.” It was too conversational and Draco winced as the last word left his mouth. Completely unsure of where that had even come from, and entirely convinced he had stepped in it yet again Draco started to roll back over, only to be stopped by a quick and sharp burst of laughter from the man sitting next to him.

Potter had a smirk on his face, utterly out of character for how he normally is in Draco’s presence, but didn’t let it drop.

“Is that your way of getting me to leave? Or did you forget that you’re the one that asked me to come here today.”

“I didn’t ask you to come see me.” Draco said it with more conviction than he felt. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt like maybe Potter was right about that as a very hazy memory from the night before came back to him.

“Yes, you did. McGonagall said you asked to see me today,” he paused for a moment, seemingly unsure, before continuing, “at least that’s what she said last night.”

“I had lost a lot of blood by then, I’m sure I wasn’t in my right mind. You were the last one I saw before losing consciousness so it was probably just a latent reaction.” He tried to be flippant, to keep up the teasing tone they had both adopted. But the thought of what had brought him here, no what had brought _them_ here, created a tightness in his throat causing it to close up over the last few words.

Potter sobered once again but tried to hold Draco’s gaze before the injured man dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

“Are you going to be alright?” Potter asked quietly.

“Madam Pomfrey says yes. My arm will heal and I’ll be back to as good as new, just with a fresh scar.”

Potter was silent for a minute and Draco thought maybe it would be left there. This had already been the most bizarre conversation he had had since the end of his trial, and he was becoming tired which usually loosened his tongue more than even drinking did.

“I meant what I said, I really am sorry about sixth.” Potter brought up that cursed year, and whether it was tiredness or something else, Draco didn’t ignore it this time.

“Well I was a right bastard that year, so I’m not sure you have to apologize.”

Potter shook his head, “No I do need to apologize. I shouldn’t have attacked you.”

“Potter, I was about to perform an Unforgivable Curse on you, you had to defend yourself. If anything I should be the one apologizing.”

The dark haired man smirked at that, “Imagine us sitting here only a year or so ago, both apologizing, seems like something out of one the Twilight Zone.”

“The what?” Malfoy asked completely lost by the analogy, he assumed it was something Muggle.

“Never mind.” Potter said with a smirk still on his face.

It was Draco’s turn to stare at his hands, not sure where to go from here. If he couldn’t feel the pain in his arm, he would have been convinced this was some potion induced dream. The bizarreness of it just increased the longer he sat there continuing to have a civilized conversation with someone he had considered his enemy for such a long time.

He chanced a glance at Potter and was sure he saw the dawning realization of his face, this was just strange.

“So you really don’t remember asking to see me?” Potter finally broke the silence just before the tension became unbearable.

“No, I told you I didn’t. And if I had asked for you I’m sure the loss of blood must have made me lose my mind.” Draco thought Potter would smile or at least smirk at that, but it only caused the boy, no man, sitting in front of him to turn somber.

Draco matched his mood quickly, realizing he didn’t feel much like putting on his mask of disregard and indifference either.

Silence descended once again, but Potter seemed to building up something if the shifting in his chair and clenching and unclenching of his hands indicated anything. Draco stayed silent while letting Potter figure out what he was going to say.

Finally green eyes found grey and he spoke, “Can I ask you why?”

“Why what?” Draco responded, even though he knew exactly what Potter was talking about. Yes they had formed some type of tentative peace, but Draco felt like Potter was pushing that to the very limits already. Trust a bloody Gryffindor to not know when to stop.

Potter just stared at him and waited.

Draco didn’t want to respond. Had no desire to, but bloody hell if his Mother’s voice wasn’t sounding in the back of his head again. She reminded him of all he owed to this man, that befriending, or at least being civil with him could only be good.

And hadn’t Potter himself been open? Hadn’t he started this, opened the dialogue, been understanding, not demeaning, not smug, not anything Draco expected from the Saviour. He wanted to talk to Draco it seemed. Wanted to sit here with him and figure out what was going on, what had happened, almost like a friend. And Merlin isn’t that what Draco had wanted all those years ago when he extended his hand to the dark haired boy with the most famous scar in the wizarding world, and asked to be friends. 

“Merlin, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”

Potter only looked at Draco as spoke, maintaining an unusual amount of restraint for himself.

“I’m sure you know why. I think it’s painfully obvious why.” Draco spoke quietly, almost a whisper, barely loud enough to let Potter hear.

Potter only nodded his head gently. He met Draco’s eyes for a moment again, before they both looked away. Embarrassment, but surprisingly not shame colored Draco’s cheeks.

Madam Pomfrey made her entrance then, just in time, before Draco said anything else too embarrassing.

“Mr. Potter, you’ve been here long enough. I hope whatever you two needed to discuss is finished, Mr. Malfoy needs his rest.”

Potter responded in the affirmative, nodded at Malfoy and made his exit.

After being checked over, extremely thoroughly, by a very diligent Matron, Draco was left alone again with the promise of lunch in a few hours.

The quiet finally gave Draco time to think. It was insane, beyond insane that the last 20 minutes had passed in such a way. It honestly still felt like a dream, something intangible and distant that just was not reality. No way had Potter sat there and been that civil to him. It was beyond comprehension that the Boy Who Lived had come and apologized, to _Draco._

No one, _no one_ would believe it. Draco didn’t even believe it himself. Six months ago Draco would have been sure this was some kind of trick. That Potter and his friends had cooked up this plan to get to him at his most vulnerable.

But now, whatever this was, whatever had prompted Potter to say all those things felt real. It felt like a small, miniscule sliver of something like hope. Draco though tried not to dwell on it because this could all blow up in his face at any time. Potter could just as easily go back to his old ways and make a laughing stock of Draco, even more than he already was. Even now the thought of reentering the student population after how he had been treated, and ultimately how he had responded, churned his stomach. The thought that everyone would know, everyone would judge, and nothing would change forced him further down into his blankets, like he was five again and they could block out everything bad.

But Potter’s ‘I’m sorry’ ran though his head again. Potter had apologized, he had saved his life yet again, and then he had sat and had a conversation with Draco that didn’t result in flying hexes or fists.

Draco was almost certain that, outside of anything related to Voldemort, this was quite possibly the strangest day he had ever experienced. And with that he fell back into a comfortable sleep.

**~*~**

“Draco!” If Hermione ever shrieked it would sound something like that. He was brought out of his daydream/nightmare/remembrance by the sound of her voice yelling out the garden door. Dread filled his heart and mind and made the pit of his stomach roll dangerously.

He was up and out of his seat spilling the book that had been resting on his lap onto the ground and hurrying toward the door with abandon.

The face that met him though was not one of dread, it looked cautiously optimistic, and resolved.

“What? What is it? Have they found him? Is he safe? Is he coming home?” Draco tripped over his words in an effort to get them out quickly.

Her face fell somewhat, but she recovered quickly, “Draco, take a breath, and listen. Please?”

She ushers him through the kitchen, and into the dining room, now buzzing with activity and more Auror’s than had been there this morning. Ron finally catches sight of Draco standing in the doorway, seconds after the blond had arrived, and clears his throat to get the attention of his fellow colleagues.

“Mr Malfoy,” Head Auror King interjects first, “we have good news!” He sounds as if he is delivering the news that Voldermort had been defeated once again. Though his is the only face that holds that level of enthusiasm, everyone else, including Ron, seems more subdued and for some reason it grates on Draco’s nerves the difference between the boss and his workers.

King goes on, “We believe we know why Auror Potter is being held.”

Draco is silent for a moment, before asking, “And?”

The smile on King’s face falters some, and he takes a moment before responding. “This is good news Mr. Malfoy, we know why he was taken. Soon we’ll be able to figure out who has him and where they are holding him.”

Draco hears Hermione make a small sound of disgust behind him, and he couldn’t agree more.

“That’s it?” he begins, knowing this is going to be bad, and not caring at all, “That’s all you have? He has been _missing_ for more than a day and a half. The bloody _Prophet_ has a picture of him on their front page! Maybe I should just go ask them who they received it from? It’d be a hell of a lot better use of my time than sitting around here thinking you all fucking know what to do!” He is breathing harshly, panting almost at the injustice of it all. Taking a full breath, ready to continue to lay into the inept group of people standing in front of him, he is interrupted by a small voice coming from behind him, from the door he had left open in his haste to hear their “good” news.

“Draco?” It’s Teddy, and he sounds lost.

Draco snaps around at the sound of the boy’s broken voice. But Teddy isn’t looking at Draco, the boy has zeroed in on one of the many copies of this morning’s _Prophet_ , this one laying on the floor near Draco’s own feet. Draco knew what the boy saw, he didn’t even need to look. The sight of Harry being cursed over and over again was too much for him. He can’t imagine what it is like for Teddy.

“Teddy, darling-“ Draco starts.

“What is happening to him?” Though his voice is small, the room is quiet enough for Teddy to fill it easily.

Without thought, without any idea what he is doing Draco walks over to the boy, scoops him up and holds him as tight as possible. Teddy’s legs dangle down, his arms match as he hangs limp as a rag in Draco’s arms.

Draco stands there, in front of a roomful of mostly strangers, and whispers and consoles and does anything and everything he possibly can to get Teddy’s attention off of the picture and onto himself.

 Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the boy responds by wrapping his arms and legs around Draco and holding on with all the strength his small body can manage.

When Teddy is securely in his arms Draco walks out the door and into their living room. As soon as the boy is settled onto Draco’s lap and they are comfortably situated on the sofa, Draco tries once again to find the right words to make this alright for the boy clinging to him.

In the end it is Teddy who brakes the silence, “He’s going to come back to us right?”

Draco doesn’t want to lie, he truly believes that Harry is right now finding a way back to them. But if the worst happens and Teddy felt he had lied, it was going to make everything so much worse.

“I’m sure he’s trying so hard to get back to us. He loves you so much, and he fights so hard for those he loves. He’s a hero remember? Hero’s always fight for the people they love.”

“Like when he saved you?”

If Draco hadn’t been holding Teddy he would have hunched over with the pain of those words, of that thought. But he just holds the boy closer and answers as strongly as possible, “Yes, just like when he saved me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to keep this updated every two weeks, so every other Saturday is what I'm aiming for right now.  
> I love reviews and comments!!!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: myfavorite26


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